10

ADAM LET HIMSELF in the back door of the orphanage and attempted to shake off the feeling of being an unwelcome intruder. In keeping with Rylan’s stipulations, he’d purposely waited until the parade of children had left the premises before venturing indoors. As far as Adam knew, the only people who should be inside were Mrs. Norton, the cook, and old Mr. Smith, who was cleaning the dormitories upstairs. Even the nuns were out at a special church service.

So when Adam heard the unmistakable sound of music, he paused in the hallway before cautiously moving toward the room where he remembered seeing a large piano. The sound became more intense, and the wood of the door vibrated beneath Adam’s hand. Whoever was playing had had a lot of training. From the little he’d learned about piano from his mother, an accomplished player in her own right, he recognized the composition. If he wasn’t mistaken, the piece wafting out was either Bach or Beethoven.

But his curiosity would not be sated until he discovered who was playing. He nudged the door open enough to peer inside. Across the room, Maggie sat at the piano, her eyes closed. An expression of near ecstasy glowed on her face as her hands flew over the keys. The power of the music combined with the breathtaking beauty of the artist mesmerized Adam. He stared, drinking in the scene until he felt like a voyeur. When the tempo changed to a slower pace, he moved away and let the door close without a sound. Then, before he could be discovered spying on Rylan’s sister like a besotted fool, he made his way to the utility room to get the tools he needed to fix the two broken desks in the classroom. As he descended the stairs to the basement, the haunting melody stayed with him, as did the ethereal beauty of Maggie’s face.

How Maggie had missed this feeling—the joy of the notes resonating within her as they burst forth from her fingers. Her confidence grew while she played, forgotten bliss surging through her as the emotion in her music touched her soul. She had long equated the rapture of music with the rhapsody of God’s great love for her.

Thank You, Lord, for this marvelous gift. For the healing power of music.

When her fingers at last began to ache, she reluctantly moved away from the piano. Past experience had taught her not to push herself too hard when she’d been away from the keys. She needed to ease back into daily practice.

After closing the lid on the magnificent instrument, Maggie rose slowly from the bench, careful not to put too much weight on the foot she’d injured during a game with the children the previous day. She limped toward the classroom, purposely ignoring the twinge of pain. As much as Maggie had wanted to join Colleen and the children on their outing, her swollen ankle had made it impossible.

Instead, Maggie consoled herself by taking advantage of the time alone to play the piano, and she planned to familiarize herself with the material in the classroom—in particular some intriguing books about American history. If she wished to become a teacher in America, she’d have to learn the country’s history. No time like the present to begin. She hoped to impress the nuns with her eagerness to learn, as well as with her time volunteering in the classroom. If she obtained a reference from the good sisters, maybe she could find a position in one of the local schools by the fall. That, coupled with any possible work playing the organ, and she should be able to stay in New York.

The door creaked as she entered the classroom, unusually silent without the bustle of children. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting beams of light over the desks.

The books she wanted were stored on the top shelf of the far bookcase, likely to keep the children from damaging the teacher’s resources. Maggie huffed out a determined breath and dragged a stool over. She stretched to reach the top shelf and pulled out one book, sending a cloud of dust into the air above her head. Obviously these resources weren’t used very often.

The urge to sneeze hit hard. She wiggled her nose to control it and reached farther for another volume.

“What in tarnation are you doing up there? Trying to break your neck?”

Maggie squealed and jerked on her perch, putting undue weight on her weakened foot. The book slipped from her grasp. She made a grab for it, vaguely conscious of Adam charging into the room. Her ankle buckled, and for one blinding moment, she feared a sprained ankle would be the least of her worries.

As the book hit the floor with a resounding smack, strong hands gripped her waist, lifting her off the stool. Before she could utter a warning, Adam set her firmly on the ground. She gasped at the searing pain that shot through her leg, causing her to stumble, her face coming into contact with the scratchy wool of Adam’s vest.

He gripped her by the elbows and lifted her, holding her weight off her injured foot. “Steady there.”

Through her haze of pain, Adam’s calm voice soothed her. The man everyone had warned her about held her gently in his arms until she had regained her equilibrium enough to raise her head.

“My ankle,” she whispered. “It’s sprained.”

“But you barely touched the floor.”

“I hurt it yesterday, and I think I twisted it again.”

He scowled. “Why would you climb up there on an injured ankle?”

“Just stubborn, I suppose.” She attempted a laugh to cover her discomfort and moved farther away, keeping her weight on her good foot. “Thank you. I think I can manage now.”

Adam bent to retrieve the fallen book, wiping the dust from the leather cover. “Is this what you risked life and limb for?” The slightly baffled expression on his face made her feel foolish.

“Aye. Thank you.” She took the book, tucked it under one arm, and then paused. “What are you doing in here? I thought you worked outside.” Maggie had been amazed that Rylan had hired Adam—even for outdoor work.

“Rylan asked me to repair two of the desks while the children were out.”

She took note then of the toolbox he’d dropped inside the door when he’d rushed to her aid. “Oh . . . well.” She swallowed, trying not to think about him holding her moments earlier. “I’d best let you get on with your work. Thank you again for your assistance.”

He stood studying her, unblinking. “I heard you playing the piano earlier. You have an amazing talent.”

The intense blueness of his eyes unnerved her as much as his hands on her waist had. She shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m rusty. It’s been a while since I’ve played.”

One brow quirked. “If that’s rusty, I can’t imagine you in full form.”

The compliment left her off balance in more ways than one. She started to move away and almost went down as her ankle faltered. Once again, Adam caught her in a firm grip. Every sense heightened, rendering the pain in her foot null and void. His male scent, a mixture of soap and the outdoors, swirled around her. She made the mistake of looking up, and the emotion smoldering in his eyes tripped her pulse. Her gaze shifted to his full lips, surrounded by the trim beard and mustache. Her fingers ached to touch his jaw, to discover if the facial hair was coarse or soft. To pull his face close and . . .

Suddenly he stiffened and set her away from him. “You’d best go and rest that foot.”

Mortification burned up her neck. Had her thoughts shown on her face? She stepped back and smoothed her skirt. “I will. Thank you.”

Turning, she limped away with as much dignity as she could muster.

Adam folded his arms over his chest, trying to ignore a mad desire to scoop up the stubborn woman and save her from hobbling like a cripple. But he’d already broken one rule, albeit by accident, just by being in the same room as Maggie. Still, her injured expression chafed at him. “Maggie, wait a minute.”

She whirled around with amazing agility for one with a sprained ankle. “Yes?”

“I didn’t mean to sound harsh. It’s just that . . . well, I’m sure your brother mentioned the condition of my employment here.”

When she shook her head, he continued. “I’m to stay away from the children . . .” He paused for effect. “And more specifically, from you.”

Her eyes darkened to the color of wet steel. “Rylan has no right to dictate who I can or cannot speak to.”

“As a brother concerned for your welfare, he does.”

She threw out her free hand, disgust evident on her face. “I am sick to death of my brothers trying to protect me from everything. As if I have no mind of my own.”

For a moment, Adam thought she might stamp her foot in frustration.

Instead, she tilted her chin. “I’m sorry if Rylan made you feel . . .”

“Like a leper?” He gave a rueful smile. “I am a leper, Maggie. A man who’s spent time in prison is not welcome many places. It’s the price I have to pay, and I accept it.” It was the first time he’d acknowledged to her that he was an ex-convict. He held himself still, waiting for her reaction.

To her credit, she didn’t flinch or look away. The only change in her demeanor was a hint of regret that passed over her features. “I’ll not do anything to jeopardize your position here. But I won’t ignore you if we run into each other.” She moved a step closer. “Deep down, you’re a good man, Adam O’Leary. One who’s made a mistake and is trying to make up for it. I would never hold that against you.”

Too taken aback to utter a word, Adam watched her hobble away.

Maggie’s words stayed with Adam for the rest of the afternoon, long after he’d finished the minor repairs on the two desks. Her compassionate reaction to his incarceration proved what an amazing woman she was, which only made it harder to put her out of his mind.

Adam blew out a sigh and hefted a pair of pruning shears. He’d moved outside to trim the hedges surrounding the orphanage property, a taxing job that caused a film of sweat to dampen his back. As he paused from his task, a rustling noise on the other side of the fence caught his attention. Was someone in the alley between the orphanage and the neighboring building? He’d noticed a strange man passing by the orphanage several times in recent days. If it was the same man, Adam would make sure the fellow realized he wasn’t welcome here.

Adam set his tool on the ground and quietly opened the gate to peer out. The swish of a skirt accompanied a flash of purple from someone passing on Lexington Avenue. A niggle of suspicion pulled Adam toward the street. A woman in a purple dress cast a furtive glance over her shoulder.

Adam stiffened the moment he recognized her. Jolene Winters worked in the saloon that Adam had once frequented—and she did not just serve drinks. What was she doing on this side of town?

She stopped, and for a moment Adam wondered if she’d seen him. But then she turned and hurried off. Something about her actions bothered Adam, though for the life of him he couldn’t say why. Just seeing the blatant reminder of his past made the bile roil in Adam’s stomach. Shaking off a feeling of foreboding, he headed back to continue his work.

At the gate leading to the rear of the orphanage, Adam halted. A piece of colored cloth protruded from beneath the foliage. He frowned. Why hadn’t he noticed this earlier?

Adam bent to tug at the material, which looked to be an old quilt. Finding it unyielding, he knelt to use both hands. An innate sixth sense raised the hair on the back of his neck, warning him to take care. As gently as possible, he pulled the bundle out into the open. Palms moist, he peeled back the fabric and stared uncomprehendingly at the sleeping face of an infant. Adam swallowed. He hoped it was merely sleeping. He pressed a tentative finger under its chin, relieved to find the skin warm and a light pulse beating.

He raised his head to scan the area. Had Jolene left this child? Was it hers—or perhaps one of the other saloon girls’ offspring? With no one in sight, Adam lifted the fragile bundle and reluctantly went in search of Maggie, praying she’d have some idea what to do with a baby.

In the orphanage’s main floor parlor, Maggie sat with her sore ankle raised on a footstool and attempted to concentrate on her book. The words on the page blurred before her, their meaning lost. For reasons she dared not examine, her encounter with Adam O’Leary had left her restless and unable to settle her mind.

Annoyance at Rylan for demanding that Adam avoid her chafed at her pride, yet she couldn’t completely fault her brother for attempting to shield her from a man he considered a criminal. Still, she was a grown woman who could take care of herself. Surely there was no need to ban Adam from her presence—unless Rylan feared she would form an unwelcome attachment.

Her heart gave a traitorous thump. In all honesty, she couldn’t deny her fascination with Adam—an attraction unlike anything she’d ever felt for Neill. In the months they’d courted, she’d discovered Neill’s outward good looks and charming personality hid a controlling nature, one that eventually drove Maggie away. She shivered. No, Maggie would take a gentle man like Adam any day over the likes of Neill.

Somewhere in the outer area of the building, a door slammed. Maggie tensed, waiting for the giggles and voices of the children, but nothing except the thump of heavy footsteps met her ears. Footsteps too vigorous to be Mr. Smith’s. And Adam had left the building over an hour ago. Mrs. Taft, the receptionist, had left for the day, and as far as Maggie knew, she was alone.

Surely Neill wouldn’t dare . . .

She straightened on her seat, willing her nerves to settle. The footfalls passed her door and continued toward the classroom. She held her breath, waiting, until she heard the classroom door open and close.

Unable to remain seated a moment longer, Maggie limped to the parlor door and cracked it open. She poked her head out, surprised and relieved to see Adam in the middle of the corridor. He stood, clutching a cloth bundle in front of him.

“Maggie.” His expression of relief was evident even at a distance. He turned and strode toward her. “I need your help. Someone left an infant by the back gate.”

Maggie’s mouth fell open. “A babe?”

He nodded. “I discovered the blanket sticking out from under the shrubbery.”

With a reverent breath, she took the bundle from him, cradling the head in the crook of her elbow, and peered down into the perfect little face. “How precious.”

“Do you think it’s all right? Should we fetch the doctor?” Anxiety oozed from his words.

“Let’s take a closer look.” She went back into the parlor and laid the baby on the sofa. Very carefully, she unwrapped the covering. The child was dressed in a plain cotton gown. “I’ll have to check the diaper area, in case you’re squeamish.”

He shot her a wary glance, but then shrugged. “Go ahead.”

As Maggie lifted the gown and opened the diaper, the infant began to squirm.

A minute later, Maggie smiled as she re-pinned the cloth. “It’s a wee girl. She’s perfect, though she’s very young and her nappy isn’t wet, which isn’t always good. I remember my sister-in-law always checking the twins’ nappies, saying a dry one could mean the babe was dehydrated.” She wrapped the piece of quilt around the now-whimpering child and lifted her to her shoulder. Maggie stood and rocked the little one as she had her own nieces and nephews many times. Soon the baby relaxed into a slumber.

“You seem to know how to handle an infant.” Adam shuffled from one foot to the other, mangling the cap in his hand.

“I have four nephews and two nieces, so I’ve had a fair bit of experience.” She looked up at him. “This babe is only a few weeks old. We’ll have to find a way to feed her since she’s sure to be hungry soon.” A wave of sadness engulfed her. “Who would leave such a precious child under a bush? Her mother must have been desperate.”

Adam stiffened. His jaw became a hard line.

She stilled. “What is it?”

He muttered under his breath as he paced the carpet, raking his hand through his hair. At last he stopped in front of her. “I may have an idea where to find the mother.”

A sense of foreboding snaked up her spine. “Where?”

His brows thundered together. “I’ll explain later. But first I’m going to fetch a doctor. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to the child.” He jammed his cap on over his now-messy hair. In two strides he reached the door, then paused. “Will you be all right here alone with her?” His gaze moved to her foot.

She blinked, amazed to realize she hadn’t felt any pain as she rocked the infant, though she’d likely pay for it later. “We’ll be fine. Off you go.” She gave him a smile of encouragement, a secret thrill warming her insides that he’d thought about her welfare and the baby’s before considering any repercussions for himself.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Maggie lowered herself and the baby to the sofa, feeling oddly bereft when she heard the main door shut.

Twenty minutes later, noise erupted in the hall once again. Maggie’s pulse sprinted. She told herself it was simply relief for the child’s sake, but she couldn’t deny a rush of anticipation to see Adam again.

When she heard the patter of many feet accompanied by childish chatter, a wave of disappointment hit hard. For a short time, it had seemed that she and Adam existed in their own little world.

“Maggie?” Colleen peered into the room. “We’re back. How is your ankle?” She stopped right in the middle of the room, her focus aimed on the bundle in Maggie’s arms. “Is that a baby?”

“It is.” Maggie hesitated to say more, worried to confess Adam’s part lest she cost him his position. Yet Colleen and Rylan would find out soon enough.

The color drained from Colleen’s face, and for a moment Maggie feared she would fall to the floor in a faint. It occurred to Maggie then how difficult this might be for Colleen, desperately wanting a baby of her own.

“May I hold it?” Colleen’s voice was a mere whisper.

“Of course.” Maggie held out the baby to her. “It’s a girl—very young, from what I can tell.”

Colleen cradled the child like a piece of delicate china. “How . . . where did you get her?”

“Someone left her under the bushes by the gate.” Maggie hobbled across the room and sank gingerly onto the sofa.

Colleen sat beside her and lay the baby on her lap.

Maggie’s words seemed to penetrate, and Colleen snagged her with a piercing look. “What were you doing outside? You were supposed to rest your ankle.”

Maggie bit her lip. “Adam found the baby and brought her inside. He’s gone to fetch the doctor to check on her.”

Loud voices sounded in the hallway. Maggie recognized Rylan’s voice but couldn’t make out what he was saying.

The voices trailed off, and Rylan entered, followed by a man carrying a doctor’s bag. Maggie watched the door, waiting for Adam. When he didn’t appear, she knew Rylan must have sent him away. Her heart squeezed at the unfairness of the situation.

Rylan moved immediately to Colleen’s side. “Someone left a baby?”

“Yes. Isn’t she beautiful?” Colleen breathed reverently.

“She certainly is.” He gave Colleen a tender smile. “Dr. Reardon is here to examine her.”

While the man opened his bag, Maggie slipped into the now-empty corridor. Repressing a sigh of disappointment, she limped toward the back of the building, trying to determine which way Adam would have gone. She passed through the kitchen and exited through the back door.

At the far side of the yard, pieces of shrubbery flew in all directions under the ferocity of Adam’s shears. Maggie shored up her courage and made her way gingerly across the grass. Her pulse bumped hard when he trained angry eyes on her.

“Go back inside. You shouldn’t be out here.”

She hobbled closer. “Did Rylan take you to task for talking to me?”

He turned back to his work. “He expressed his . . . feelings on the matter.”

Maggie grimaced. Why was her normally fair-minded brother being so hard on Adam? “I’m sure when I explain—”

“Don’t bother.” Adam clipped harder, shoulder muscles straining. “I broke our agreement. He has every right to fire me if he chooses.”

Alarm and outrage slammed through her. “I won’t let him. When he learns how kind you were with the baby—”

Adam whirled around. “Stop it, Maggie. Stop making me out to be some kind of saint. Pretend I’m invisible like the rest of the world.”

Tears filled her eyes, and her throat grew tight. She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do that.”

Her gaze fused with his. She willed him to see that she believed in him, that she shared his pain.

Raw agony glowed in his eyes for a moment before a shuttered look came over his features, as though he’d drawn a curtain between them. “No good can come from associating with a known criminal. If you want to make something of your life, you’d best remember that.”

Maggie struggled for an argument to change his mind, but he’d turned back to his clipping, leaving her emotions as slashed as the foliage on the ground. She began to limp away, but her concern for the child made her stop. “You said you might know where to find the babe’s mother. Will you try?”

He clenched his jaw, then finally gave a tight nod without looking at her. “It may take a day or two.”

At his unyielding profile, Maggie gave a resigned sigh. “I’ll let Colleen and the doctor know.”