ADAM DREW IN A RAGGED BREATH as he exited his mother’s sickroom. The nurse James had hired had asked for a few moments with her patient. Adam walked the hallway, fighting to corral his grief, and his gaze fell on Maggie’s forgotten bag. He remembered then that he’d abandoned her upon hearing Brianna’s dire message. Where had she gone?
The sound of music penetrated his consciousness. He didn’t have to guess who was playing the piano. He descended the stairs, cracked open the parlor door, and paused to listen. A pure, clear voice rang out over the room.
“The Lord’s my Shepherd, I’ll not want.
He maketh me down to lie
In pastures green; He leadeth me
The quiet waters by.”
Adam’s fingers tightened on the door handle until the metal seemed fused with his flesh. How could Maggie know this was one of Mama’s favorite hymns? Forgotten memories from his childhood swamped his emotions for the second time that day—visions of his family standing in the pew on Sunday, of his mother’s sweet voice ringing out above the other worshippers’. Would she ever have the chance to do so again?
His knees almost buckled at the thought that she might never rise from her bed.
Please Lord, don’t take her from us. We need her here.
He wanted to escape the torture of Maggie’s song, but his feet remained fixed to the spot as though held by an invisible force. At last, the song ended, and her fingers stilled on the keys. Without him saying a word, she seemed to sense his presence, for she turned and looked at the door.
“Adam.” She pushed the bench back from the piano and crossed the room, concern shining on her luminous face. “Your mother?”
He dragged a hand over his face, stunned to find his cheeks wet. “I fear we’re losing her, Maggie. She’s so weak . . .” Adam swayed, not knowing what to do with the incredible grief that roared through every cell in his body.
Maggie wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. “It’s in God’s hands now. But no matter what happens, it will be all right. I promise.”
The warmth of her body seeped into his. He tightened his arms around her, allowing his cheek to rest on her hair. The effort to repress his surging emotions made him shudder. In response, she moved soothing hands up his back, whispering Irish words he didn’t understand.
The meaning wasn’t important. She was in his arms, and despite the fear and grief that clawed at him, he felt safe. Comforted.
She lifted her fingers and wiped the dampness from his cheeks. He tried to move away, ashamed to be caught shedding tears, but she held him fast. “It’s good to let your sadness out. You can’t keep your emotions bottled up to fester and infect your soul. Let them out now, so you can be strong for your mother later.”
“Maggie.” The word strangled in his throat. If only he could stare into her beautiful eyes forever and forget the war that raged around them. Forget the past. None of that mattered in this moment.
Nothing mattered but Maggie.
He lowered his head until his lips found hers, tasting the salt of her tears. She raised a hand to cup his jaw and kissed him with a sweetness that humbled him, soothing the pain in his soul like a balm. At last, with great reluctance, he pulled back. It wasn’t fair to take from her this way, to accept the comfort she offered, when he could give her nothing in return.
“I’m sorry, Maggie. That was unfair of me.”
“Hush. You’ve no reason to apologize. Kissing you is no hardship.” She gave him a gentle smile. “I came to share your pain and to offer whatever consolation I’m able.”
He brushed a finger down the silk of her cheek, studying her intently—the clear skin, the pert nose, the full lips. “Why, Maggie? Why do you care?”
A blush spread across her cheeks, and she lowered her lashes.
A gentleman would take back the question and relieve her apparent discomfort. But Adam needed to know.
She straightened and looked him in the eye. “I don’t know how or why this has happened, Adam, but I do care. Very much. I believe God has a plan for me, and I’ll bide my time until it becomes apparent. In the meantime, I choose to trust my heart. I can do no less.”
Her honest admission astounded him. No games, no flirting, no hedging the truth. How did he respond to that?
He lowered his forehead to hers. “Maggie, you know why this is not possible. I have nothing to offer but a criminal record and a blemished bloodline. You deserve so much better.”
She shook her head, sorrow filling her eyes. “Why do you insist on denying yourself happiness because of a man who died before you were born? He has no bearing on your life.” Her tone held no anger, simply frustration.
Adam took a deliberate step back. “No bearing? His genes run through me and will run through any children I may have. I won’t subject anyone to that.” He raked a hand through his hair. He had to make her understand the importance of this once and for all.
She walked to the fireplace and stood staring into the cold, gray ashes. When she turned back to him, she lifted her chin. “Adam, what do you think of little Ivy?”
He frowned at the complete change in topic. “What do you mean?”
“Would you have any qualms about Colleen adopting her? Raising her as her own?”
“Of course not. She’s an innocent babe.” Too late, he sensed a trap in her questioning.
“So Ivy’s fate is not sealed by her mother’s? Not tainted by her blood?”
The trap snapped shut. He grappled for a way out. “If Ivy is reared in that lifestyle then, yes, she will be corrupted by it.”
“But if she were raised in a loving home by respectable parents, like Rylan and Colleen?” Maggie’s slim brows rose.
“If the parents loved her and treated her as their own, then she’d be fine.”
She walked up to him, her eyes earnest. “You had such an upbringing, Adam. You were raised in a loving home with upright parents, with a mother and siblings who adored you.”
Adam snorted. “And a father who loathed the very sight of me.” He stalked to the French doors and peered out over the garden.
The swish of fabric told him Maggie had followed. “Did your father beat you, mistreat you, punish you with cruelty?”
Adam’s fingers twitched on the door handle, itching to push out into the open air. To keep walking, far from this house, away from these questions probing into areas he wished left alone. A flare of irritation pulsed through him, and he spun around to face her. “Is neglect not mistreatment? Is withholding affection from a child not cruel?”
She winced, and he instantly regretted the harshness of his tone. But if it took such frankness to make her see the truth, then so be it.
“A father withholding love from a child is cruel. But it doesn’t mean the child will become a criminal, that his life has no worth.” She moved so close he could see the mesmerizing flecks in her eyes. “You cannot allow the absence of affection from one parent to override the love of your mother and your siblings, not to mention”—she waved a hand around the room—“being given all the luxury a child could want. Other children have been raised in far worse circumstances and turned out fine.” A flash of pain passed over her features. “A child whose father died in a mine, for instance, forced to live in a small cottage with her widowed mother and four brothers.” Tears glistened on her lower lashes. “That child could have turned out many ways.” She inhaled deeply. “But I believe she’ll do quite well for herself.”
“Maggie—”
“And you’ll be fine, as well.” She raised a hand to stroke his cheek. “But unless you can believe that, unless you believe in your own worthiness, none of that will matter.” Her fingers fell away. “You have choices to make, Adam. I pray you make the right ones.” Her eyes held his, professing the depth of her affection.
He longed to say something—anything—to reassure her, or if nothing else, to crush her against him and kiss her again. As he wavered, Maggie stepped back.
“Go and be with your mother. She needs you. And I have to help Mrs. Harrison.”
With quick strides, she crossed the room, and at the door paused to look back. “I’m here if you need me, Adam. Don’t be afraid to accept the gift that’s offered—with no expectations attached.”