24
WALKING PAST THE RACETRACK toward the barns, Adam inhaled the aroma of manure and grass. After days confined to the stuffy upstairs bedroom, the need for fresh air lured him outdoors. Though Mama hadn’t yet regained consciousness, she had passed the crucial forty-eight hours mentioned by Dr. Shepherd without her condition worsening, and for that alone he needed to give thanks. He could think of nowhere better than out in nature where the pure essence of God lived.
He headed to the pond at the rear of the property, where the tragedy had occurred many years ago. Maybe by being where Danny had departed this world, he could feel close to his brother again.
Adam stood beneath the drooping willow, looking out over the deceptively innocent body of water, but he could no longer conjure the hatred and self-loathing it used to evoke. He had to believe God had a purpose for calling Danny home at such a young age, just as he had to believe his mother’s life was safely in God’s hands, as well.
Adam bent to pick up a couple of flat rocks and skipped them out over the water, watching the ensuing ripples skitter toward the shore. Events in his life resembled these stones, cast out into new territory, each creating its own set of ripples and consequences. Adam might not understand the way God worked in his life, but he had to trust it was all for the greater good.
One of John’s favorite verses came to mind. All things work together for good to them that love God, and to them who are called according to His purpose. Adam had clung to those words during his time in prison, gleaning hope from the promise there.
He bowed his head and offered words of praise to his Heavenly Father.
Thank You, Lord, for your mercy upon our family. Please pour Your healing graces on my mother and my sister and brother. Bless Colleen and Rylan. Give them strength to deal with the loss of baby Ivy and little Delia’s illness. I pray You see fit to grant healing unto Delia. They need her, Lord. Please use me as Your instrument to help in both these situations to the glory of Your name. Amen.
Feeling steadier, Adam retraced his steps toward the house. He’d stop by the kitchen to see what leftovers Mrs. Harrison had, since he’d missed the midday meal.
As Adam crossed the property, the grass soft beneath the tread of his boots, he found his thoughts turning to Maggie, as they always did when he had too much time on his hands. How he’d hated leaving her at the orphanage that day. Did she suspect how badly he’d wanted to kiss her? To hold her close and bury his face in the silk of her hair?
He thought he’d seen a similar longing in her eyes as they’d said their good-byes. But he’d steeled himself to let her go. It wouldn’t do them any good to ignite a passion that should be left to lie. It would only make them yearn for something that could never be.
He followed the white fence that surrounded the racetrack, intending to enter through the rear door near the kitchen. When he turned toward the house, though, he forgot to breathe. An apparition stood by the stairs leading to the porch, her long hair lifting in the gentle breeze.
Maggie. Had he conjured her from his imagination?
His feet seemed rooted to the rich earth at his feet. He blinked, thinking to banish the image from his mind, but she remained, her blue skirts billowing out behind her.
With effort, he forced his feet to move forward, while his heart beat an unsteady rhythm in his chest. Sudden alarm filled his mind. Had something happened to Delia or Colleen?
“Maggie. What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Adam.” She clasped her hands together in front of her. “How is your mother doing?”
She appeared nervous, her usual unflappable nature missing today.
“She’s holding her own for the moment. What news do you have from the orphanage?” He hardly dared hear the answer, yet he sensed no grief in her spirit.
She smiled, wreathing her face in a beauty that blinded him. “Dr. Reardon says Delia will make a full recovery.”
Relief rushed swift and fierce through his system. “Praise God. He’s answered our prayers.”
Maggie came closer, the hem of her skirt swishing the grass as she walked. “Indeed He has.”
As though drawn by a magnet, Adam continued forward until he was mere steps away. So close that her lavender scent surrounded him. “But why have you come? Surely a phone call would have sufficed.” He knew the answer he wanted to hear, yet the futility of it all hovered in the recesses of his mind.
A cloud of uncertainty passed over her features. “I came to offer whatever support I could.” Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her skirts. “Colleen wanted to be here, but she couldn’t leave Delia yet. I offered to come in her stead and bring a letter for your mother.” She lifted one shoulder. “If I can be of any assistance—cooking, washing, whatever needs to be done . . .” She trailed off, a slight frown wrinkling her perfect nose.
Adam held himself rigid, determined not to let his disappointment show. She’d come here to work. In all likelihood, Rylan had suggested it to make Colleen feel better about not being able to come herself. He straightened. “Come in. I’ll find out what tasks you can help with.”
“Thank you.” She fell in beside him, crossing the grass to the back stairs.
Adam opened the door for her, and they entered through a narrow hallway into the kitchen.
Mrs. Harrison sat at the large wooden table, a plate of food in front of her. She jumped up when they entered. “Master Adam. What can I do for you?”
He gave a mock scowl. “You can sit and finish your meal. This is Maggie, Rylan’s sister. She wants to help in whatever way she can.”
Mrs. Harrison beamed at Maggie. “Lovely to meet you, dear. Any relative of Rylan’s is welcome here.”
Maggie’s light laugh echoed through the kitchen. “I see my brother has worked his considerable charm on you. He knows how to keep anyone who cooks his meals happy.”
“That he does.” Mrs. Harrison settled her plump frame back on her chair. “I must rest my feet while I can. Though I’d be glad of your help later in getting ready for dinner.”
“Thank you, Maggie. Help yourself to the leftovers if you’re hungry.”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Remembering his initial intention, Adam snagged two biscuits and an apple from a basket on the counter. “Could you let Mrs. Johnston know we have a guest staying overnight?” He peered at Maggie. “You are intending to stay?”
Maggie fixed him with a solemn gaze. “I’m here until your mother is on her feet again.”
Mrs. Harrison chuckled. “I think you’re just what we need around here, Maggie. Nothing like a fresh dose of optimism, I always say.”
Maggie nodded. “From your lips to God’s ears.”
In the Irish Meadows kitchen, Maggie’s nerves lessened, and she breathed easier. At least Mrs. Harrison seemed grateful for her presence. Adam’s unwelcoming manner had added to her initial anxiety, yet deep in her heart, Maggie believed she’d done the right thing by coming. Still, if it became apparent Adam didn’t want her here, what would she do?
“Did you bring a bag?” Adam’s voice jarred Maggie out of her thoughts.
“Aye. I left it by the front door.”
“I’ll get it and then take you to one of the guest rooms. You can freshen up before Mrs. Harrison puts you to work.”
Adam led Maggie down another hallway to the front foyer, and she waited while he retrieved her bag. In silence, they began to climb the impressive, curving staircase.
Her mind searched for ways to keep him talking, to keep him from shutting her out. “How have things been between you and your father since you got here?”
Adam shot her a hard look. “Strained. But we’ve struck a truce for now.”
They reached the second floor, and a flurry of footsteps sounded on the carpet.
Brianna rushed toward them. “Adam, come quickly. Mama is asking for you.”
He dropped the bag on the floor. “She’s awake?”
“Barely. It’s not good, Adam.” Tears brimmed over Brianna’s lower lashes. “She wants Colleen, Dee-Dee, and Connor. I don’t know what to tell her.” Dark smudges gave her wide green eyes a hollow look.
Maggie followed the pair down the hall, pausing when Adam entered what had to be his parents’ bedroom. She stood, torn with indecision. She didn’t feel entitled to be part of this scene, yet she ached for the pain Adam must be feeling. She walked to the open doorway and peered inside.
In the dimly lit room, Kathleen’s body made barely a ripple under the quilt. They had propped up her head with pillows, and her eyes followed Adam across the room until he reached her side.
He fell to his knees and reached for her hand. “I’m here, Mama.”
“My son.” The tortured whisper hung in the air. “Thank the Lord.”
“You need to save your strength. You can talk when you’re feeling better.”
“No. Must talk now. James.” She twisted her head to find her husband standing at the end of the bed. She reached out a hand, and he moved forward to take it.
He brought it to his lips and then held her palm to his cheek. “I’m here, too.”
Kathleen looked at Adam. “You two must make peace. I need to know, in case I don’t recover.”
James shook his head. “Don’t talk that way, Katie. You’re going to get better. You have to.”
She labored to draw a breath. “Promise me. Please.”
Adam raised tortured eyes to James. Maggie could see only the man’s back, which seemed as stiff as one of the bedposts. A sagging of his shoulders, along with a whoosh of air, signaled his capitulation. “Aye, Katie. I promise.”
Adam turned back to his mother. “I promise, as well, Mama. Now you have to get well, because we might need a referee.”
A hint of a smile touched Mrs. O’Leary’s lips. “I’ve been doing that all our married life.” Her expression burned with intensity. “Forgive me, Adam. I never wished to hurt you. I was only trying to protect you.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Mama. I love you.” Adam’s voice cracked, and he laid his head on her arm.
Tears ran freely down Mrs. O’Leary’s cheeks.
“Come now, love. You mustn’t upset yourself. The doctor will have our hides for wearing you out.” James gripped Adam’s shoulder. “You’d best go and let her rest.”
“Wait.” Kathleen’s gaze darted around the room. “Where are my babies? Connor and Deirdre. I want to see them. And Colleen?”
The panic in Mrs. O’Leary’s voice tore at Maggie’s heart. She sounded like she was two steps from heaven’s door and couldn’t leave without a final good-bye to her children.
Brianna leaned over to brush a few wisps of hair from her mother’s forehead. “Colleen is caring for Delia, and Connor and Deirdre . . .” She glanced at Mr. O’Leary, who gave a tired nod. “I’m afraid they’re sick, too, Mama.”
“Noooo.” The moan lingered in the air. “God, please don’t take more of my children. I couldn’t bear it.” Her body shook beneath the bedcovers.
Maggie fought back tears of her own. Adam’s head remained bent, shielding his expression from Maggie’s view, yet the sight of his stooped shoulders told her of his pain.
As much as she wanted to be in the room to help him bear the sorrow, she knew she had no right. Before any of the family caught her witnessing such an intimate scene, Maggie found the stairs again and descended to the main floor. Sadness weighed upon her spirit. How would the family cope with the death of their dear wife and mother? Maggie feared they would fall apart without the one person who seemed to hold them together.
Maggie’s sorrow led her to the place that could provide her a measure of solace. She entered the parlor, hushed and cold. Light shone in from the French doors, where the curtains had been pushed back. In the corner sat the baby grand piano, the one Mrs. O’Leary had played so beautifully the night of Brianna’s party.
Maggie pulled out the wooden bench and sat before the instrument. She flexed her fingers, rested them softly on the keys, and began to play the hymn that always brought her consolation. She hoped that if the notes drifted upward, they would bring the others the same comfort.
As she played, the words of the hymn begged to be sung, and ever so softly she added her voice to the piece. “‘The Lord’s my shepherd, I’ll not want . . .’”