Epilogue
JUNE 1923
DEIRDRE SAT AT THE DRESSING TABLE in her childhood bedroom and ran a brush through her hair, a bubble of anticipation rising within her—not only for the wonderful festivities ahead, but for the little surprise she had planned for Matthew. A fitting one, given that today three new members of the O’Leary family were to be christened: Brianna and Gil’s son, Theodore James; Maggie and Adam’s daughter, Katie Annabelle; and Colleen’s bundle of joy, Madeline Deirdre.
She smiled at the lovely tribute her sister had given her and Matthew in naming her daughter after them.
“Madeline is the closest girl’s name to Matthew I could find,” Colleen had told them.
The fact that she’d held off with Madeline’s christening until Deirdre and Matthew could come back to attend meant the world to both of them.
As much as Deirdre had grown to love her new life in Toronto as Mrs. Matthew Clayborne, she had to admit she missed Irish Meadows and her family. But thanks to Uncle Victor, now a full partner in Matthew’s clinic, they were able to schedule a two-week holiday here.
Other than being slightly upset at having to leave Patches with Mrs. Potts, Phoebe had been more excited about the trip than anyone. She’d packed her bag a full week in advance of their trip. The changes in that precious child reminded Deirdre every day that she’d made the right decision. Deirdre’s bedroom door flew open, and Phoebe rushed in, carrying a large box topped with an enormous pink bow.
“Mama, I have a present for you.” She puffed as she set the box on the bed.
Deirdre pulled the sash of her robe tighter and rose from the vanity. “A present for me? What for? It’s not Christmas, and it’s not my birthday.”
Phoebe giggled. “It’s from Papa. He said it’s ’cause he loves you.”
A thrill tingled up Deirdre’s spine, and she didn’t even try to hide the wide smile that bloomed.
Matthew appeared in the open doorway, his smile matching hers. “Well, Mrs. Clayborne, aren’t you going to open it?”
“Maybe I should wait until I can open it in private?” She winked at him.
His gaze grew more intense as he crossed toward her. “Although I admire your thinking on the matter, I believe you’ll want to open this sooner rather than later.”
“Please, Mama. I want to see the dress.” Phoebe clapped a hand over her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”
Deirdre laughed. “It’s okay. I already guessed it might be clothing.” She glanced at Matthew. “But I already have an outfit for today.”
“I’m pretty sure you’ll change your mind once you see it.”
Something about the gleam in his eyes set Deirdre’s nerves to buzzing. With trembling fingers, she pulled off the bow and opened the lid. Under a layer of tissue, a most beautiful white satin material peeked out. Gingerly, she lifted the dress from the wrappings and gaped at the lace bodice.
“What is this, Matthew?” she whispered. “It looks like . . . a wedding dress.”
“Correct.” His grin widened.
“I don’t understand.”
“We’re getting married, Mama. And I’m going to be a flower girl.” Phoebe laughed and twirled until her dress billowed out around her.
Deirdre sank onto the mattress, the dress clutched to her chest. “But we’re already married.”
Not long after they’d returned to Toronto, Mrs. Potts had taken ill, requiring surgery and a lengthy convalescence. Deirdre had been looking after Phoebe during the day, but with Mrs. Potts out of the house, and Matthew working long hours to get the clinic started, the nights became problematic. Aunt Maimie had offered to take Phoebe until Matthew could hire someone, but Deirdre had felt the most practical solution was for her to marry Matthew sooner than intended and move into his home. After some persuasion, Matthew had finally seen the merit of her idea and had arranged a quick, private ceremony, one she knew he regretted more than she. The small disappointment of not having her family present paled with the happiness she’d found at becoming Matthew’s wife.
“Phoebe, would you get the second part of the present, please?” Matthew’s eyes never left Deirdre’s face.
“Okay, Papa.” The girl dashed from the room.
Matthew came to sit beside Deirdre. “When we got married in the rectory with only Victor and Maimie as witnesses, I vowed I’d make it up to you. Today is that day.”
“Oh, Matthew.” Tears choked her airway.
He reached over to take her face in his hands. “Will you marry me again, Deirdre, in front of your whole family?” Moisture shimmered in the blueness of his eyes.
“I’ll marry you again every day if you ask,” she breathed.
He pulled her face to his and kissed her so tenderly that the tears she’d been suppressing slipped down her cheeks. When at last he lifted his head, he brushed the moisture from her cheeks with his thumbs.
“What about the christenings?” she asked weakly.
He smiled. “They’re actually scheduled for next Saturday. When we get back from our honeymoon.”
At her thunderstruck look, he laughed. “Your parents felt we deserved a little time to ourselves, and they’ve graciously given us a week at the Vanderbilt Hotel in Manhattan.”
She blinked, torn between happiness at having time alone with Matthew and disappointment at missing the time with her family.
“However, I told them that, knowing my wife, she wouldn’t want to be away from Phoebe or her family for that long, so I compromised on two nights.”
She flung her arms around him. “I love you so much.”
He laughed again. “Good, then let’s go get married. Reverend Filmore is waiting.”
“So are your attendants.” Brianna breezed into the room with Colleen, Maggie, and Phoebe right behind her. They carried flowers and two more boxes.
“Your husband has thought of everything, and whatever he forgot, we remembered.” Brianna bustled over to the bed. “Now if you’ll excuse us, Doctor, we need to help the bride get ready.”
Two hours later, dressed in his best suit and tie, Matthew stood at the front of St. Rita’s church. His stomach tensed in anticipation as the attendants and Phoebe came down the aisle. When the music swelled, and Deirdre and James appeared in the doorway, his breath caught in his lungs at her incredible beauty. Awed gasps and murmurs arose as she walked down the aisle, and Matthew gave silent thanks to Brianna for choosing the perfect dress.
The satin gown hugged Deirdre’s figure perfectly. Under a sheer veil, she positively glowed, gliding toward him on James’s arm.
When they reached the front, James stopped to lift her veil and kissed her cheek before handing her over to Matthew.
Deirdre’s eyes shone brighter than the candles that flickered on the altar. She gave her bouquet to Brianna to hold and slipped her hand into his. He still couldn’t believe she loved him, that she belonged to him. That he would have the privilege of spending his life with her.
Matthew was so focused on the absolute love radiating from her face that he barely heard Reverend Filmore’s words, finally tuning in when the time came for his vows.
He swallowed hard and looked deeply into her eyes. “I, Matthew Edward Clayborne, take you, Deirdre Bridget O’Leary, to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, cherish, and protect, ’til death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance.”
Deirdre squeezed his hand, and her lips trembled.
When the reverend invited Deirdre to say her vows, she hesitated. Then she turned and held out her hand to Phoebe, who was sitting in the front row with Kathleen and James. Beaming, Phoebe rushed over to Deirdre’s side.
Deirdre glanced at Reverend Filmore. “I think Phoebe should be up here with us since she’s as much a part of this ceremony as we are.”
Matthew had never loved Deirdre more than at that moment.
Deirdre locked eyes with him and spoke the same vows. A hushed silence descended over the room. Their faithful promises of love took on even greater significance uttered in this holy place.
Matthew stared down into his beloved’s face, until at last Reverend Filmore pronounced them man and wife and gave him permission to kiss the bride.
Matthew readily complied, capturing his wife’s lips in the most reverent of kisses.
At a tug on his suit jacket, he looked down at Phoebe, then scooped her up in his arms. A burst of applause broke out over the church, and Reverend Filmore introduced Dr., Mrs., and Miss Clayborne to the congregation.
As they made their way back down the aisle, Matthew raised his eyes to the rafters of the church and offered his most profound thanks to God for allowing such love into his life.
And for changing him enough to receive it.
A few hours later, Matthew stood on the balcony at Irish Meadows and surveyed the throngs of people. The house overflowed with love and laughter and happiness. His heart swelled with satisfaction, watching Deirdre flit from person to person, greeting everyone with a hug and a smile. Though she insisted she hadn’t minded the simple ceremony in Toronto, Matthew was grateful he’d managed this surprise for her in the parish where she’d grown up.
“There you are.” Deirdre came up beside him at the stone railing and laid a hand on his arm. “You seem pensive. Is everything all right?”
He smiled down at her. “Everything is perfect. I never thought I could be this happy.”
“Me either,” she whispered and rose up to kiss his lips. “Thank you. This was exactly how I’d always hoped my wedding day would be.” She grinned. “Well, with one exception.”
Matthew frowned. “What exception?”
“Actually, I planned to tell you after the christening, but the wedding changed all that.”
His heart gave a hard lurch. “Tell me what?”
“That I’ll need to take some time off from the clinic in about six months.”
He counted ahead to December and tried to make sense of her statement. “Do you want to spend Christmas here?”
“That would be lovely, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to travel then.” A gleam of mischief in her eye was the only indication the situation wasn’t grave.
Then she burst out laughing. “What I’m trying to tell you, my love, is that you’re going to be a father again.”
He stared at her, eyes widening as her meaning finally became clear. “We’re having a baby?”
“Yes,” she said softly. “We are.”
His throat thickened, and he gathered her close against his chest, silly tears blurring his vision. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“For one thing, I didn’t know for sure until a few days before we left, and then I thought you might use it as an excuse to postpone the trip. I’m afraid I was a little selfish.”
He ran a finger down her cheek. “You are the bravest, most unselfish woman I know, and I am humbled by your love.”
“You’re happy, then?” Deirdre asked in a hushed voice.
“Ecstatic. I feel like I’ve been given another chance to do fatherhood better this time.”
She snuggled against his shoulder with a sigh. “God has been so good to us, Matthew. He knew what I needed when I was headed down a path that may not have been right for me.”
“Me too. I was so sure I wasn’t made for love or marriage. I thank God every day for the bossy woman who barged into my practice, determined to help her mother no matter what the crotchety doctor said.”
Deirdre’s eyes twinkled. “You certainly were crotchety, and slightly arrogant, I might add.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t deny the truth of your assessment.” He chuckled and kissed her again.
She reached up to caress his cheek. “Well, Dr. Clayborne, would you care to dance with your wife one more time before we start our honeymoon?”
He wrapped his arms around her. “I most certainly would, Mrs. Clayborne.”
James O’Leary stood beside the piano in his parlor and surveyed the room before him. Other than a few close friends and neighbors, the majority of the people gathered for the celebration were family members—his children and grandchildren.
His chest puffed out with pride. What a fine-looking group they were, and more important, they were all kind, respectable, morally upright citizens. People he would like to spend time with even if they weren’t related.
James straightened at the sight of his wife walking toward him, leaning heavily on her cane. Tears stood out in her bright eyes.
He rushed to support her weakened side. “Katie, you need to sit down. I think you’ve overdone it.”
Ever since the stroke had felled his indomitable wife, James’s world hadn’t been the same, forever worried that he could lose her.
Her smile eased a fraction of his concern. “I’m all right, James. Though I won’t refuse the offer of a seat.”
He guided her to the sofa near the fireplace, which two of his grandchildren quickly vacated. He sat beside her, still not satisfied she was okay.
Kathleen placed a hand over his. “Deirdre just told me the most wonderful news.” Her face glowed. “She and Matthew are expecting.”
A jolt of emotion squeezed James’s chest. “A strange time to announce such a thing—at their wedding.”
“You know very well they were married months ago.”
He scowled. “In a rectory. In a foreign country. That doesn’t count.”
Kathleen laughed. “You’re such a fraud, my darling. Everyone thinks you’re intimidating, but you’re nothing but a marshmallow.”
James kept his lips from twitching. “So we’ve another grandchild on the way. You don’t think Deirdre regrets giving up her dream?”
“One’s dreams have a habit of changing over time.” Kathleen smiled and looked across the room. “I think she’s very happy. As are all our children.”
He followed her gaze to Connor and Josephine, standing close together, involved in a seemingly intimate conversation—perhaps discussing their recent engagement.
Until Connor had met Josephine Miller, Irish Meadows had been his sole passion. The fact that he’d been willing to give up his inheritance for her spoke volumes and had cemented James’s support of their union.
“You’re not still having reservations about Jo, are you?”
Katie’s anxious question brought James out of his thoughts.
“No, my dear. They seem well-suited. And Josephine’s talent with the horses has been an added bonus.”
“We’re so blessed, James.” Katie’s whisper held a hint of tears.
“We are indeed, my love.” He raised her hand to his lips. “Most of all, I’m blessed to have you.”
She smiled. “Next week we celebrate the christening of three more grandchildren. What did we do to deserve such a wonderful family?”
He caressed her fingers, his mind drifting. “I’ve been thinking of my parents quite often of late. Coming to this country with nothing but the clothes on their back. Hoping to give their children a better life. They’d be so proud of the legacy we’ve created.” He swallowed the rise of emotion in his throat.
James leaned over and kissed his wife, who understood him as no other. Then he lifted his head to scan the room filled with his offspring—the future generations of O’Learys—and warmth spread through his chest. God had surely provided them with an abundance of blessings.
And no matter what the future might bring, James rested secure in the knowledge that his family would weather the brunt of any storm that might arise, sustained by the faithful promise of God’s unfailing love.
And for that, he was most grateful indeed.