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Inside the hall, a couple hundred people gazed intently at Maire, and she squirmed, her manner nervous. Yet, when her voice rang out over the tones of the band, her eyes were only on him. Spellbound, he sponged up each note, transported somewhere else, to a place where she surrounded him with a melody that whistled in his ears and tingled his senses.
The applause came afterward, and the crowd rose to its feet. She returned to the table, and he helped her into a chair. But he remained speechless, filled and satiated to a point he couldn’t think of anything but the beauty of her voice replaying in his head.
He took up his glass and drained its contents in two gulps. “That was ... wonderful.”
Her cheeks pinked. “You liked it?”
Her gaze on his, he couldn’t look away. Somehow, if he did, she’d fade, and this would become less real. The moment had to end, however. Gradually, the rest of the room crept in around them—plates and silverware clicking, people chattering. The band began another tune.
“Maire ...” Gerritt began. I need to talk to you about tonight.
He didn’t say it. He no longer wanted to talk to her about that, no longer wanted to tell her not to come, to stay away instead. Though he had to, for both their sakes. Because as soon as he could speak with his mother and convince her to let him go, he’d leave for New York. Then what would happen? What would she do once he was gone?
“Let’s go,” he said. He’d talk to her outside, where no one could hear the conversation and people weren’t watching their every move.
He steered her toward the door, his gaze on the night sky, and surprised when she came to a standstill. The color washed out of her face, her lips pressing tight. He followed the path of her eyes to a couple sitting at a table a few feet away. The girl looked up, and her face changed to what he could only call horror.
“Maire.” The girl spoke in a whisper.
Maire’s fingernails dug into his skin, and her shoulders jerked. Gerritt wrapped an arm about her. “Maire? Who is this?” he asked.
“Cora and Eddie.”
Eddie’s expression was no better than the girl’s, fear mixed with uneasiness. In that instant, it all fell into place. Somehow, these people were responsible. They’d taken Maire to that place, wherever it was, and introduced her to the man who’d harmed her.
Gerritt’s face grew hard, heat surging through him. He leaned over their table, casting his voice low. “One word of what happened to her in public, and you will pay ....”
“Gerritt, please.” A sob caught in Maire’s voice.
He bundled her to his side.
They made their exit, him supporting her on the way out, but pulling away from the Garden Room, she crumpled. Unable to stand the sight, Gerritt pulled off the side of the lane and pressed her to his side. He tipped her chin and wiped her tears away with his palm. “You can’t go home looking this way,” he said. “What will others think I did to you?”
She made a slight hiccup. “They won’t. They know you too well.”
He offered a smile, then moved one hand to her cheek. “Don’t let what happened in there upset you. You are stronger than you think, Maire O’Fallen. How else could you get up and sing before so many people without giving it a thought? Be that woman. Be the one who stole my breath away.”
She started. “I ... I did that?”
He tugged her head to his chest. Here is where he said what he came to say. We can’t sleep together anymore. But the sentence stalled. His bed was lonely and cold without her there.
“Maire,” he said after a number of minutes. “We must be careful. My family returns tomorrow ....”
She nodded, without moving from her position. “You are too good to me. I don’t want this night to end.”
He stroked her back, his fingertips trailing along the ridges of her spine, the gentle curve of her waist, and swell of her breast, pressed to him. God, help him. He didn’t either.
“Mama?” Gerritt halted inside the entrance and smiled at his mother. She looked as lovely and collected as she ever did. Whatever the distance she traveled or the hardships it entailed, Amber Finnegan always managed to look fresh and rested.
He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. She smelled nice, too.
She returned the kiss, then moved her gaze to Maire. “Michael said you two went out. How was your evening?”
She spoke lightly, yet he saw in her eyes certain knowledge.
His mother was very perceptive. She’d lived a hard life before marrying his father, and he’d always believed that helped her detect troubles building beneath the surface.
“It was fine,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you back until tomorrow.”
She smiled. “Lucy wasn’t feeling well, and Grace wanted to bring her home.”
Lucy, Grace and Nick’s youngest daughter, seemed to always come down with something.
“I hope she’ll be all right?”
“Nothing rest won’t solve.”
Gerritt nodded and turned Maire toward the stairs. “I’ll come back down,” he said.
He walked Maire to her bedroom, slipping inside the door with a glance behind, and pushed it closed with his foot. “You’ll be there later?” he asked, her hand in his.
She folded their fingers together. “Yes, after midnight.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
With great reluctance, he removed himself from her room. What was he doing? He’d not only refused to tell her to not come, he’d invited her. This was dangerous. At some point, one of them would get caught, and how would they explain it?
He needed to talk to his father. Ask some advice.
Patrick Finnegan was the only father Gerritt had ever known, and, in his opinion, exceedingly wise. He was also the soul of discretion, this coming from his office as a minister in the church.
Gerritt located him in his study, his Bible open on the desk. Kindness and peace radiated from his gaze.
“Son.”
Gerritt seated himself in the chair set before the desk. “Papa, I’m glad to see you. Your trip went well?”
Patrick ran a hand over the page, smoothing it flat. “Very well. We wished you had come.”
Gerritt folded his hands in his lap. “I can’t imagine I was missed too much.”
His father chuckled. “You are too hard on yourself.”
He didn’t reply to that, but considered what to say without revealing too much. “Papa, I need to ask your advice, but as a minister not as my father.”
Patrick’s face settled into its familiar place, a look Gerritt had seen on him as long as he could remember, one that turned aside his opinions and looked instead to the Word of God for answers.
“Of course. What do you need?”
Gerritt glanced at the open door, and standing to his feet, shut it firmly. “I see no reason to beat around the bush. You probably know I took Maire out tonight.”
Patrick inclined his head but didn’t speak.
“The father side of you wants to know why.” Gerritt smiled crookedly at him. “I’d rather not get into that. Let’s just say I woke up.”
This changed his father’s gaze from one of concern to curiosity.
“I realized tonight that I have lived in my head too long and therefore not seen the things around me. Both the good and the bad. I’ve become callus.” He held up his hand to still his father’s assumed response. “Let me finish. I know what people say of me, and I’ve never cared. But something has changed in here.” He patted his heart. “I have a decision to make, a big one, and my question is ... how will I know if I make the right choice?”
Patrick reclined in his chair, tenting his fingers. “Well, two ways. First, you take another step and realize it is the wrong one.”
That didn’t seem like the way to go because if he made the wrong choice, it would affect more than himself now.
“And the other?”
“The other requires a great deal of faith. Faith is like walking in mid-air. You can’t see your feet or feel the earth beneath you, but you know God holds you there.”
“How do I know which step is faith?”
His father grew silent. Gerritt didn’t speak. His father did this sometimes; it usually meant he was listening to God’s words in his heart.
“You seek a clear path,” Patrick said at last. “You want the road well marked and a map in your hand, but it won’t come that way.”
Gerritt drank in his words, hearing the change in his father’s voice. This came from God, not the man behind the desk. The air grew thick.
“Instead, you will have to step out blind and trust God to be there with you. For God is always with you. Yet, walk carefully. Your steps are being observed and the path you take will change a life other than your own.”
His father fell silent and shut his eyes. Gerritt waited on him to look up. When he did, he met his gaze unashamed. His father sat forward, his gaze again becoming the friendly one who had loved him from birth. But his final words, shot straight to Gerritt’s heart.
“It’s all right to fall in love,” he said. “No one here will think any less of you for it.”
Her life was falling apart. Even breathing took a great amount of effort and then seemed wasted on someone as insignificant as her. She couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and didn’t care about the next day, the next hour, the next minute. The only bright light she could see around her was Gerritt Finnegan. She lived for him.
She’d always been in love with him. She’d trailed along after him, wishing he would give her a glance, and the others had made fun of her for it. Looking back, it was cute and sweet. But now ... now she’d fallen head over heels. He hadn’t said anything to her directly, hadn’t kissed her, or professed his affections. He’d simply been there when she needed him, and in that small gesture, become the man she desired with all her heart.
Tonight he’d said she took his breath away. His compliment swirled up through her being and her heart seemed to burst in her chest. Their private time together couldn’t come soon enough.
She changed into her night dress and pretended to crawl into bed. Her father poked his head into the room, then her mother. She waited afterward for the doors to close, the house to settle, and slowly, the night sounds crept in.
Her misgivings surfaced, so she tarried longer than normal, wishing to be doubly sure she wasn’t seen. Then, unable to contain herself, she dashed across the space in the hall and grasped hold of his doorknob.
“Maire?”
Jenny. Maire’s heart pounded so hard it captured her breath. She squeezed the knob tighter.
“What are you doing?”
She forced herself to release the door and turn around. “I ... I ...”
Gerritt’s door opened, and his sturdy presence arose behind her. “Go to bed, Jen,” he said.
Jenny’s forehead wrinkled. “Gerritt? What is going on?”
He slipped to his sister’s side and turned her about. “Nothing. Go to bed.”
But she balked, catching hold of the doorjamb. “Mama said you and Maire went out, but why is she coming to your room?”
He gave her a hard shove. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. There are things you know nothing about. Go to bed, and don’t breathe a word of this. Do you hear me?”
He shut Jenny’s door, then tugged Maire into his bedroom, shutting the door tight and sliding a chair beneath the knob. He grasped hold of the sides of her face. “I’m crazy to do this.”
Maire trembled in his hands. “Then why are you?”
Forget that she needed him to drive the dreams away, that she needed him to drive off the awfulness, why was he risking everything for her?
“I don’t know. I ... I can’t sleep alone.”
“And Jenny?”
“Has been warned. She’ll keep quiet.” He took Maire’s hand and led her to the bed. Pulling her down at his side, he cocooned them both in the bed cover, then folded himself around her.
Sleep dragged at her eyelids, claiming her as his hand fell over her arm and across her breast.
She counted the days, then counted them again. Two weeks. That was five days longer than it should be. Maire mashed a hand to her belly. Five days, and she had less appetite than before. In fact, the only night she recalled eating well was the night Gerritt took her dancing.
Her mama worried, and her worry sapped Maire’s remaining peace.
“I want you to see the doctor,” she said.
No. She couldn’t see the doctor because what if ... what if he figured it out? Then everyone would know, and Jenny would think it was ... was ... Gerritt’s fault.
Lightheaded, Maire threw her hand to the bed post and sank down onto the mattress. Dizzy? It must be true. Would that it were Gerritt’s. Having Gerritt’s baby would be everything. But having his baby would mean they did something they hadn’t done.
The tears rose up in her afresh and the disaster of her life swallowed her. The whole town would soon know she was ruined. Her father would be shamed and shunned. Not even the great Michael O’Fallen could overcome this.
She curled up on the bed, her knees gathered to her chest, and wallowed in her sorrow. She needed Gerritt. She had to tell him. He would fix this.
When would night come? When could she be with him again?
Gerritt pulled the envelope from his notebook and stared at it, all his dreams going up in smoke. What was college or writing or New York if Maire destroyed herself? His mother would never let him go anyhow. Of course, he was a grown man; he could go on his own. But that meant defying her and breaking her heart, and that of his father as well. He could never do that.
He sighed and tore the envelope in half. It didn’t matter. Maire mattered; she was what was important, and without him here, she would die. She wept all the time now, and the others had noticed.
His sister stared at him continually, her pointed gaze knifing his brain, and he knew what she thought. He’d seen her watching more than once when Maire entered his room. She was wrong, but he couldn’t counter it. If he was her, he’d think the same thing.
This couldn’t last. Something somewhere had to break. But what would that something be? What would change this tenuous bridge they had built?
Gerritt went to bed and laid awake, waiting for her to come, and she did at last, shutting the door and wedging the chair beneath the knob. He scooted over for her to lie down beside him, but her eyes were open tonight, her pulse fast.
“Gerritt? I’m five days late.” Her green eyes caught the moonlight, their depths displaying the truth.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
Her crying started all over again. He pulled her to his chest, her face nestled beneath his chin. What was it his father had said? Your choice will affect someone else. Was this it? His life affected Maire’s, Maire and her unborn child.
He couldn’t reject her. That went against all he’d known. Patrick Finnegan had taken him in though he wasn’t his son. Despite how he was conceived, despite what the man who’d created him had tried to do, trying to kill everyone in the Finnegan and O’Fallen families ... despite all of that, his father, Patrick, loved him. He’d never once treated him like he was anything but the son he’d always wanted.
He had only one choice, one move to make to save everything he now held so dear. He sucked in his breath and sought Maire’s face. “Maire?” He called her name.
Tear stained, she turned it upwards, and time suspended. She was beautiful and didn’t deserve to be so unhappy. With this, he could change that, be the man he’d been raised to be.
“Maire?” he asked again. “Will you marry me?”