18

MATTHEW ATTEMPTED to concentrate on the notes before him, but the words blurred on the page. He had too much on his mind, his thoughts shifting and twisting in numerous directions at once. The attention he’d received from the O’Learys and the Whelans for saving Sean, while wonderfully validating, chafed at him. Everyone had made him out to be a hero. But heroes, he’d learned long ago, soon fell off their pedestals.

To make matters worse, Matthew could not stop thinking about the intoxicating sweetness of Deirdre’s kiss. Nor her look of devastation when he’d realized what a mistake it had been. That soul-stirring embrace had changed things between them, and he had no idea how to get back to their former relationship.

“Is everything all right, Matthew?”

Kathleen’s quiet question jarred him from his thoughts.

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been sitting with your pen poised in midair for over ten minutes now.” Her faintly amused expression matched her tone.

He straightened his back and laid the instrument down. “I suppose I haven’t been able to get Sean’s misadventure off my mind.”

She released a ragged sigh. “Thankfully, the Lord brought you safely home.”

Matthew looked away, not willing to enter a religious debate. Especially since this time he couldn’t quite refute her claim. He still remembered the feeling that he wasn’t alone in the cabin when Sean and Deirdre had been most at risk.

Kathleen rolled her wheelchair over to the desk. “Matthew, may I ask you something?”

“You may.” He closed his logbook.

“How do you feel about my daughter?”

He sucked in a sharp breath but forced his expression to remain neutral. The last thing he wanted was to discuss his feelings for Deirdre. But he couldn’t ignore the woman. “I admire Deirdre very much,” he said carefully. “Her spirit, her kindness, her loyalty.” And her impulsive nature, so different from his own.

Kathleen’s shrewd gaze held his. “Do you have a romantic interest in her?”

Matthew jerked up from his seat. “Where would you get that idea?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Matthew’s heart thudded in his chest, the air seeming overly warm. “I don’t know what you mean.” He moved to the other side of the room, as though he could escape her questions.

“I’m asking because I’m fairly certain Deirdre is interested in you as well.”

Matthew banked down a rise of panic and turned to face her. “This conversation is pointless, Kathleen. After my wife died, I vowed I’d never marry again. So I’d be obliged if you’d let the matter drop.”

She studied him quietly. “You must have loved your wife very much to make such a vow.”

Matthew’s spine cinched with tension. He needed to get off this hero’s pedestal—before he fell off and shattered. “You couldn’t be more wrong. My marriage was an unmitigated disaster, which is why I’m not willing to enter another. I’ve come to learn I will never be enough for any woman. Not my mother and not my wife. I only pray I don’t fail Phoebe as well.” His rib cage pinched on a loud exhale.

“That’s a lonely way to live,” she said sadly.

“Not really. I’ve been alone most of my life.” The ache that spread through his chest mocked him. He clenched his hands into fists. “Please excuse me, Kathleen. I need some air.”

He marched from the room and exited the house without even stopping for an overcoat. The biting wind pierced his shirt while drifts of snow swallowed his feet. Matthew welcomed the discomfort. Far easier to bear physical pain than to relive the emotional pain of his past.

Matthew kept walking in a desperate attempt to outrun his demons. Yet he feared it was too late. That his outer shell—the one he thought so tough—had begun to crack.

Panic clawed up his throat. He needed to leave Irish Meadows as soon as possible, before he broke wide open, never to be whole again.

With the wet snow seeping through his shoes, he turned back to the house, wishing it was as easy to numb his heart as it was his feet.

Matthew was avoiding her.

Deirdre rose from the dining table with an audible sigh. He’d started taking his breakfast before she even rose, for the sole purpose, she was certain, of not having to eat with her. He’d also taken great pains to make sure they were never alone, leaving a room if she were the only one present.

All because of one silly kiss. One silly, heart-stopping kiss.

By acting on feelings better left alone, she’d ruined their close relationship and frightened Matthew away—probably for good. Never again would he let his guard down around her. The wall around his heart would be fortified with a layer of cement, one she’d never be able to break through.

When would she ever learn to curb her impulsive nature?

Deirdre took her empty coffee cup and set it on the sideboard. Then she raised her chin and stepped out into the hallway. Whether Matthew liked it or not, she would join Mama’s therapy session again, and he’d be forced to interact with her—no matter how uncomfortable it made him.

Mrs. Johnston intercepted her before she reached Mama’s room, waving an envelope. “Miss Deirdre. A letter arrived for you. It looks official.”

A chill of unease swept through Deirdre as she accepted the mail. “Thank you, Mrs. Johnston.”

The return address of Boston, Massachusetts, seemed to jump off the envelope. Deirdre sighed again. Mama’s therapy would have to wait. Deirdre needed privacy to read whatever the university had to tell her.

Taking advantage of the fact that her father was busy outdoors, Deirdre entered his study and crossed the room to sit in one of the wingback chairs by the hearth. She ran the envelope between her fingers and tried to calm the roll of nerves in her stomach. Perhaps it was simply some routine correspondence. Or perhaps they were inquiring about her return. Gathering her courage, she opened the letter.

Dear Miss O’Leary,

We regret to inform you that due to your lengthy absence, we have no choice but to revoke your place in our medical program.

We realize your personal circumstances had to take precedence over your academic career; however, holding your spot is depriving other students of the opportunity to study.

If you desire, you may reapply for the next academic year beginning in September 1923.

Sincerely,

Josiah Q. Abernathy,
Dean of Boston Medical Sciences

An invading numbness spread through Deirdre’s body. The stationery fluttered from her fingers to the floor. After everything she’d sacrificed to get into the medical school at Boston, she’d been expelled.

How would this look when she reapplied in the future? Would they risk offering her another place after this?

Not likely.

The thought of having to fight all over again to find a new placement was almost too daunting to consider.

Sorrow and anger crashed through her in equal measure, spearing her chest with a ripping spasm of pain. She snatched the paper from the carpet, crumpled it into a ball, and heaved it into the fire.

The flames curled around the offering, twisting and burning until nothing remained but the smoldering ashes of her dreams.

Deirdre walked to the window of her father’s office and stared out at the bleak terrain. She laid her forehead against the cold pane of glass and allowed the pent-up tears to fall.

Matthew wheeled Kathleen back to her room and assisted her into bed. The therapy session this morning had been more grueling than usual. Today, for the first time since her stroke, Matthew had helped her get to her feet. He’d supported her weakened side, while Kathleen bore most of her weight on her good leg. Once she’d gotten the feel of standing again, Matthew had helped her put a little pressure on her bad leg, triumphant when she’d managed to take two steps without buckling. The beads of perspiration that streaked her face, however, told him of the huge toll it had taken. He’d insisted on cutting the session short so she could rest until later in the day when they would continue with the hand weights.

Kathleen’s elation over her progress had been most gratifying. Matthew only wished Deirdre had been there to experience her mother’s victory. Remembering their shared joy when Kathleen had managed a few notes on the piano, he swallowed a sigh of regret. Perhaps it was better to avoid such temptation.

Matthew closed his logbook and removed his reading glasses. He and Phoebe had become too entwined in the O’Learys’ lives here at Irish Meadows. It was time for them to think about returning home—to reality.

Yesterday had marked the end of the one month trial period he’d agreed to. Now that Kathleen’s recovery seemed certain, he could leave without guilt. Having fulfilled his promise, there was nothing to stop him from booking his return trip to Toronto.

He rose from the desk, resolution steeling his spine. He would make the telephone call right away—before he had a chance to put it off.

Matthew headed straight for James’s study and closed the door behind him. He’d taken a few steps into the room, inhaling the pleasant odor of pipe tobacco, when an unexpected sound met his ears—one resembling stifled weeping. He stopped in surprise, scanning the room for its source. In the far corner, he recognized Deirdre’s dejected figure. She stood with her back to him, head bent against the windowpane. Her shoulders shook with near-silent sobs.

A sense of alarm crept through him, and he immediately crossed to her side. “Deirdre? What’s the matter?”

She jerked and swiped a hand across her cheeks. “Matthew, you startled me.”

The look of devastation on her face chilled his insides. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She clasped her fingers around a bunched-up handkerchief. “The university has rescinded my place in the medical program.”

He paused to take in her meaning. “You’ve been expelled?”

“Yes.” More tears bloomed. “I won’t be able to go back unless I apply all over again.”

Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her trembling frame and drew her to him. “I’m so sorry. I know how much your studies mean to you.”

It shocked him how much he wished he could fix the situation for her. Every sob, every sniffle, seemed to resonate through his chest to echo in his heart. He held her for several minutes, relishing her nearness, grateful he could provide some small comfort.

When at last the tears subsided, she stepped back and looked up at him, her eyes washed in sorrow. “I don’t want Mama to know about this. She’d only feel terrible—as though it was all her fault.”

His mind whirled for any possible way he could help. “I know a few doctors on the board at the Boston hospital. Perhaps I could make a few calls. See if there are any strings they could pull at the university.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “You’d do that for me?”

“Certainly. I can’t guarantee a positive outcome, but it couldn’t hurt.”

Deirdre gave him a tremulous smile. “Thank you, Matthew. Just the fact that you would go to the trouble means a lot.” She squared her shoulders. “Perhaps this delay is for the best, though. Mama will need me for a long while yet. This way I won’t be tempted to return to my studies too soon.”

Matthew marveled at Deirdre’s inner fortitude. She’d just lost her deepest desire and all she worried about was her mother’s welfare.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “What did you come in here for? Not to console a weeping woman, I’m sure.”

He glanced at the telephone on the desk, then shook his head. “Nothing that can’t wait.”

If Deirdre could set aside her dream for a whole year to help Kathleen, surely he could spend another week or two at Irish Meadows—long enough to speed up Kathleen’s recovery and ensure she was able to walk on her own. It wasn’t much, but it was one tangible way he could help Deirdre get on with her own life.

He gazed down into her lovely face. Wisps of auburn hair feathered over her flushed cheeks. Her lips trembled in another attempted smile, and he had to quell the overwhelming urge to kiss her. Instead, he took a painful step away from her.

Matthew’s career might survive an extended stay at Irish Meadows, but could his heart?

He was afraid to find out.