Chapter Thirteen

Spring thundered into Louisville with storms and temperatures that played up and down the thermometer like the squirrels in the trees.

Finola began wandering out to her secret garden plot she had staked out behind the stables. Perfectly hidden from view of the house, she worked each day as Liam undertook his studies with Mr. Glenwoody. Using a spade, she turned the ground over in the small square plot and worked it down into respectable shape by mixing in horse manure from the stables. By mid-March, she was ready to set her cabbage seedlings and plant seed potatoes she had smuggled in from the general store.

One bright early April morning, she worked with measured accuracy as she added a row of sweet green peas, and then surveyed her work with a sigh of satisfaction. Finally, she was at home. This process of combining seeds from her home in Ireland with this dense, clay-ridden soil of Kentucky would result in binding her here in her new life and home.

Remembering the time, she hurried into the house and scrubbed her hands with strong soap at the kitchen sink. She could hear Liam calling for her.

“I’m in here, lamb,” she replied, drying her hands quickly.

“May we have some lunch now?” Liam poked his head into the kitchen.

“Yes, of course. I’ll get it for you right away.” She ladled up two bowls of chicken soup from the pot that was simmering on a back burner.

“Here ye be.” She set the bowls on the table. She smiled when she noticed Mr. Glenwoody took great care to cut a wide path around the table to avoid her.

“Tea, milk?” Finola noticed the tutor’s mere nod of the head for a reply.

“Finola,” Liam called. “May I please have crackers?”

She brought them along with the milk and tea, and stood by to see if either one needed anything more.

“This child has exceptional manners,” Mr. Glenwoody remarked, staring at his soup. “That reflects very well on his father, and on you too, Mrs. McNamara.”

His comment caught her off guard. “I thank ye, sir, but I can’t take much credit for this child. He was already himself before I ever came here. His mother deserves the credit, I believe.”

Liam raised his face from his steaming bowl of soup and smiled at her with tears in his eyes. “That’s why I love you so much, Finola. You keep my mother here with me, and you always say such nice things about her.”

“Well, now.” She nodded her head. “I only speak the truth. I believe your mother was a very fine woman. Just a while ago I was out in the yard admiring her flowers.”

Big tears rolled down the boy’s face. “She loved her flowers. She kept seeds back every year for the annals.”

Mr. Glenwoody cleared his throat. “I believe you mean to say ‘annuals’ which means yearly.”

Liam nodded. “Yes, that’s it.”

Silence filled the room. She patted Liam on the shoulder and straightened his napkin. “Finish your soup now, and I’ll go find some cookies I baked this morning.”

He nodded and patted her hand back. “I’d like that.”

“Yes.” Mr. Glenwoody brightened up immediately. “I would like some, too.”

She busied herself stacking cookies on a plate, but in her mind she was planning a way for Liam to heal his broken heart.

****

Liam’s tutoring would end in early May so that Mr. Glenwoody could take a break. As was the custom in the area, schools let out early in the summer and took back up again after the crops in neighboring rural areas were harvested.

Finola thought about the hot summer months that stretched ahead of her and knew in her heart that there would be no way to keep Liam from discovering her secret. She could not afford for him to distrust her, so she would make him her ally.

The housekeeper and her charge sat together quietly at the table finishing up their breakfasts. They had bid the tutor farewell and good luck on his vacation just a week before.

“What shall we do today, Liam?” She took his plate and measured her words carefully.

The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d like to do something. It’s too quiet without Mr. Glenwoody here. Maybe I’ll read.”

“That’s a fine idea.” She nodded her head. “I was thinking you might like to help me with a little something I’ve been doing.”

“I would.” He leaped from his chair. “What is it?”

“Well, I have a bit of work outside.”

He clapped his hands together in delight. “In your garden? The one no one knows about?”

She set the dishes in the sink with care. “How long have you known?”

“From the very start,” he answered with a laugh. “I can see the spot from my bedroom window.”

She felt the blood drain from her face. “I didn’t realize. Your da doesn’t know about this, does he?”

“No. His bedroom is at the front of the house, facing the street, just like yours. Why would he ever look out my window?”

She nodded. It was true. Timothy would never have cause to look out the back of the house, but she would have to be more careful. It would only be a matter of time, she feared, until he discovered what she had done. But she would worry about that when the time came. It was too late to turn back now.

“So.” She cast a stern gaze toward him. “Are you ready? Are we allies?”

“I’m ready,” he replied, looking quite pleased with himself. “I didn’t think you were ever going to tell me.”

She laughed as she pulled her sunbonnet from its peg by the backdoor. “You’re a naughty child, do you know that?” She ruffled a hand through his hair as they headed out to work.

With hoes and rakes, they worked at the dirt ridding of weeds and the endless wild morning glories that sprang anew every day. At noon they returned to the house to eat, sweating and aching with each step.

“Finola,” Liam gasped. “I’m exhausted.”

“Aye, so am I. But this is the best thing I know to cure a broken heart.” She draped an arm around his shoulder. “And we both have those, don’t we?”

He nodded. “I’m going to wash up, but I’ll be back down in a flash.”

“Take off those dirty shoes before you go tramping through there.” She smiled.

He was enjoying himself, and he liked working. It was good for him, and he would never forget this time in his life.

A little voice nagged at her. And he will never forget you either.

She made sandwiches for their lunch, and she could hear him in his room upstairs tearing around from one spot to the other. What was he doing? It sounded as if he were searching for something.

Just as she was ready to call him, he came tearing down the stairs. His cheeks were glowing, and his eyes were bright with excitement.

“I found them. It took forever, but I found them.” He placed a small folded packet in her hands. “Can we?”

She unfolded the delicate paper and looked inside. She knew immediately what they were—his mother’s flower seeds.

She nodded and then took the child into her arms. “Of course, we can. I brought my family’s seeds with me from Ireland to plant at the place that would be my home. It took a long journey to find it, but they’re here now. And by planting your mother’s flower seeds, you’re keeping her alive in your heart and in the place that was her home. That makes our little plot a garden of love. It will always be a special place.”

He returned her hug with strength that once escaped him. “Let’s eat. I can’t wait to get back out there.”

“Just for a while though. We have to get on and make ourselves presentable before your da comes home.” She touched the fraying knot of hair at the back of her head. “I look a fright, I’m sure.”

“Nah, you’re fine,” he remarked, eyeing the sandwich. “But how did you know Da wouldn’t be home for lunch today? We could have been caught.”

“He’s working on a deal for the bank and said he couldn’t spare the time to come home, so I made him something to take with him.”

Liam smiled broadly. “You are so good to us, Finola.”

“Go on with yourself.” She laughed. “Now eat your lunch.”

She watched him devour the sandwich and marveled at how he had changed since she first came to take care of them. This strong, healthy child barely resembled the frail little boy she had found then. So many things had changed—not just for her, but for all of them. The most startling of those changes was how her heart was so filled with these fellows. Her every thought centered on the two of them. And her dreams were filled with Timothy. She was in love with him.

She must have known for a long time, but it was an easy to matter to lie to oneself. No, it wasn’t right, she knew that. But still she knew love and all its complications, and it was alive in her heart no matter what society thought about it.

The problem was keeping anyone else from knowing, and topping that list was Timothy himself.

“Are you feeling all right, Finola?” Liam cocked his head to the side, looking for all the world so much like his father that her almost came out of her chest.

“Yes, dear. Just wool gathering.” She picked up his dishes and put them into the sink. “I think we’ve done enough work for today. Run along now and take a good hot bath. Be sure to scrub every speck of dirt off ye. We don’t your da suspecting us, do we?”

“No, we don’t.” He ran toward the front of the house and then ran straight back to kiss her on the cheek. “I love you, Finola. I’m so glad God sent you here as an answer to my prayer.”

“Thank you, Liam. Hurry now, there isn’t much time.” The huge tears puddling in her eyes held their place until the very dirty child had disappeared upstairs for his bath.

There was no way this could stay in place, she thought. If not Mary Louise, then some woman someday would win Timothy’s heart. Her loves would then be the new woman’s family, and Finola would have the worst broken heart in America.

****

Timothy cast a puzzled gaze at his son across the dinner table and then at Finola. He speared a small red potato and chewed it, still looking at them.

“Is something wrong, sir?” she asked. “More tea?”

“No, I’m fine. The dinner is wonderful. You just make everything taste so good.” He loaded his fork with new green peas. “Really fine. No, I was just wondering what you two have been up to today. Your faces have been sunned, and you’re both apparently very tired.”

“Butterflies.”

Timothy raised his eyebrows. “Really? Do tell me all about the butterflies.”

Liam cleared his throat. “Oh, we just like to watch them. They’re interesting, you know.”

“Hmm,” his father agreed. “They are. What do you think of the butterflies, Finola?”

“Umm, they’re very lovely.” She looked around the room searching for anything that might give her some inspiration, and found it in a tiny cobweb, of all things. “I do love the way they float and flutter about. So graceful and free.”

“I see. And you both watched butterflies for most of the day, then?” Timothy had cleaned his place and was now leaning back in his chair, unbuttoning his vest for more room.

Liam and Finola nodded in synchronized guilt.

“Well, I did my housework,” Finola offered. “I made this dinner.”

Liam chimed in. “And I did my daily reading, Da, just like Mr. Glenwoody instructed.”

“I’ll have my dessert now, and I hope my son will have some with me,” Timothy told Finola. “He’s cleaned his plate, but he looks as if he could fall face-first into it.”

“I’m just a little tired, Da. I do want dessert, Finola.”

“I’ll bring it right out.” She swept into the kitchen, grateful to be out from under Timothy’s scrutiny. What was he up to?

Smiles greeted her as she placed dishes of fresh homemade vanilla ice cream in front of them.

“What a treat,” Timothy crowed. “I haven’t had this in ages.”

Liam gulped his down in great spoonfuls. “This is truly delicious, Finola. Da, I bathed before you came home. May I have permission to go upstairs and read before bed?”

Timothy nodded. “Certainly. I’m sure Mr. Glenwoody would approve.”

After a round of hugs, Liam bade them goodnight. Timothy watched as his son shuffled out of the room. He turned to Finola. “Butterflies?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir Butterflies. They’re right fascinating, you know.”

“So I hear. All that fluttering about.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll just clean up these dishes and head upstairs meself. I’m a bit tired.” She hurried to the sink before he could ask her anything more.

Timothy said nothing more and turned his attention to the newspaper. Finola wished he would go upstairs so that she could check the last of her small plants in the basement. She had to get them out tomorrow, but it looked as though she wouldn’t be able to get away without him noticing. She cast a glance around the kitchen and spied a small crate that had contained several items delivered by the mercantile.

“Well, sir,” she announced, drying her hands on her apron. “I’ll just take this old box downstairs and then retire for the night.”

“Oh, leave it there. I’ll take it down for you.”

“No!” She caught herself. “Sir, you don’t want to go down there. You might get your nice trousers filthy. It will just take me a moment.”

Before he could argue, she picked up the crate and descended the stairs into the dark. Maneuvering by feel, she found the tray of plants and held them up to the dim light of the moon shining through the window. “Eh, you’re doing fine,” she whispered. “Tomorrow you’ll be out in the air and sunshine with your roots in the dirt.”

“Who are you talking to down there?” Timothy called from the doorway.

“Oh, I’m just talking to meself, sir. Hold the door.” She hurried up the steps, pulling the door closed behind her.

“Talking to yourself?” he asked, studying her with close knit brows.

“A bad habit, I admit. I’ll just turn these lamps down.” She rushed around the kitchen shutting out the lights.

“But I…”

“Goodnight, sir. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With an air of efficiency, she turned out lamps as she made her way to the stairs.

Timothy followed her like a puppy. “Yes, well, goodnight then.”

Once inside her room, she listened at the door to make sure he wasn’t going back downstairs. When she heard the click of his bedroom door, she peeked out into the hallway. All clear.

Taking her nightclothes with her, she tiptoed to the water closet and washed up. Her muscles ached and exhaustion swept through her. She wasn’t sure what was more tiring—working the garden or keeping the secret.