Hope Springs (31 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Two days had passed since Mr. Johnson’s visit. Katie had found a bit of calm and a sense of purpose. She’d taken the position at the mercantile in order to help her Irish neighbors through the winter. Though she wanted to think Mr. Johnson had softened a bit during her time there and wouldn’t raise the Irish prices now that she was gone, she couldn’t be completely certain of that. She had little else to offer beyond her bread. If she could use the bit of her savings that wasn’t already going toward the food and fuel she and Granny used from day to day, she could see that her Irish neighbors had bread they needn’t pay for. With the money they saved, they might be able to endure a rise in prices.

She’d made her first free bread delivery that day. And though convincing her neighbors to accept her offering had been difficult, Katie had held firm. Hope Springs was home, and the people there were family. She would do everything she could to help them.

Biddy walked at her side, having made the deliveries with her. “Ian is slowly returning to himself. Though his head still pains him, he has much of his strength back. I find myself hopeful I will have my dear Ian back again.”

Katie smiled. Her heart lightened to see Biddy looking less burdened. “I seem to remember a certain woman telling me once upon a time that ‘hope springs eternal.’”

“And I was right about that, you know. I only wish this town of ours lived up to its name more often than it does.”

Katie gave her friend a quick hug. “I haven’t lost faith in Hope Springs. We’ll find our way out of the darkness of this feud, you’ll see.”

“Katie! Katie!”

She knew Emma’s voice on the instant and turned to greet the sweet girl.

“Good day to you, Em—”

Emma looked worried.

Katie reached out and took her hands, studying her face for any clue as to what had upset the child. “What’s happened, dearest?”

“Ivy won’t come out of the barn.”

“What is she doing in the barn?” Katie knew the tiny girl didn’t have chores to be done there.

“She’s hiding.”

“A game, then?” Biddy guessed.

Emma shook her head.

“Why did you not tell Mrs. Smith that Ivy’s hiding in the barn?” Katie asked. “Or your papa? Or Finbarr?” To have come all this way seemed a touch extreme.

“Papa is gone, and Finbarr is with him.” Emma’s frantic look remained. “And I can’t tell Mrs. Smith because Ivy’s hiding from
her.
”

Katie did not at all like the sound of that. She exchanged a quick look with Biddy. “I’d best go check on my girl.”

Biddy nodded. “Are you still planning on us for supper?”

“Aye.” Katie stood. “I will see you tonight, Biddy.” She took Emma’s hand. “Come on, then. We’ll coax Ivy out.”

They walked quickly down the road toward the bridge. Ivy hiding in the barn did not, in itself, seem worrisome. But Emma was so clearly upset about it, Katie couldn’t help feeling anxious.

“What exactly sent Ivy into hiding?” she asked.

Emma’s brown eyes were too heavy and worried for Katie’s peace of mind. “She knocked over the flour jar and it broke.”

“She’s embarrassed, then?”

Emma only shook her head, not explaining. Katie didn’t press her.

They reached Joseph’s barn. From the doorway, she heard a voice.

“This is entirely unnecessary and is taking up far too much time.” The words held more than a hint of scolding. “Stop this tantrum and come down from there.”

“Is that Mrs. Smith?” Katie asked.

Emma nodded.

“Shall we go have a wee little talk with her?”

The suggestion did not give Emma the bit of confidence Katie had hoped it would. Did Mrs. Smith worry her so much that even having an empathetic adult at her side not make Emma feel any better about confronting the woman?

“Come down here this instant.” Mrs. Smith’s impatience sharpened the words.

Emma paled. “May I wait out here, Katie?”

“If you’d rather remain here, or go up to the house, you most certainly may, darling,” Katie told Emma. “But if you’d like to come in with me, I’ll keep you right at my side where you know you’ll always be safe.”

Emma took a deep and fortifying breath. A look of determination crossed her face.

“There’s my brave girl.” Katie squeezed the hand still held firmly in her own. “Let’s go rescue your sister.”

Mrs. Smith stood at the bottom of the ladder leading up to the loft, her hands fisted on either hip. “If you don’t come down here this instant, Ivy—”

Katie spoke over the cross words. “In my experience, Mrs. Smith, she responds much better to her name spoken in a kind voice.”

Mrs. Smith spun about to face her. “This is none of your concern, miss.”

“On the contrary.” Katie stepped up next to her. “These girls are rather dear to me. Their welfare will always be my concern.”

The woman only grew more outwardly exasperated. “Their welfare is not in question. Neither of them is in any danger. The littlest one simply refuses to come down, and I cannot leave her up there alone.”

“Scolding her is unlikely to encourage her to come to you,” Katie pointed out.

“If you can do a better job of it, please do.” Mrs. Smith motioned toward the loft, stepping back with a look of haughtiness that grated. Clearly she thought Ivy would respond no better to Katie.

“Why don’t you return to your work?” Katie suggested. “I will attend to the sweet angel in the loft.”

“She is not being very angelic today,” Mrs. Smith said. “I told her she would not be punished for what was clearly an accident, but it’s as if she cannot understand simple—”

“Let me stop you right there.” Katie kept her calm only with great effort. “’Tis never a wise thing to speak ill of any Irishwoman’s children within her hearing.”

“
Your
children?” Clearly the sentiment surprised Mrs. Smith.

“Indeed.”

Emma clutched Katie’s hand in both of hers. Katie slipped the girl just a touch behind her.

“And, if you would be so good as to give Mr. Archer a message for me, please tell him I’ve taken the girls to spend the day with me, and he can fetch them whenever it is convenient.”

Mrs. Smith seemed to debate a moment before relenting with a shrug and a look of acceptance. She moved with quick strides out of the barn.

Katie looked down at Emma and received a tentative smile.

“Shall we go up after Ivy?” Katie asked.

Emma nodded.

Katie climbed the ladder, stopping when her head cleared the floor above. Ivy sat across the loft but within sight, her arms wrapped around her bent knees. Hay stuck out of her braids and clung to her stockings. Sad tears sat on her cheeks.

“Hello, Ivy, angel. Won’t you come over and talk to me?”

Ivy stood and dragged her feet as she walked to where the ladder leaned against the loft. She plopped back down, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Why are you up here alone?” Katie asked.

Ivy’s lip quivered. “Mrs. Smith is mad at me.”

“I hear you broke the flour jar.”

Ivy nodded. A tear dripped off her chin.

“Were you afraid she would be angry?” Katie thought of Mrs. Smith’s sharp words. “Did she yell at you, or scold you harshly?”

Ivy dropped her head down, her forehead on her knees.

“Darling?” Katie pressed.

“She looks at me like she’s angry. I don’t like it.”

“Does she hit you?”

Ivy shook her head, and Katie felt some of her anxiety lessen.

“Does she yell or shout?” Katie looked down at Emma, standing at the foot of the ladder.

“No,” Emma said. “Not really. But she talks so . . . so hard at us.”

Poor things. They needed love and kind words; they needed a mother. She understood that need, having spent most of her childhood alone and longing for someone to care about her.

She turned her attention back to Ivy. “How would you like to come have a wee céilí down at my house, sweetheart?” She reached out and stroked Ivy’s hair. “I might even make biscuits. I know how much you love my sweet biscuits.”

She heard the tiniest murmur of “Cookies.”

“Yes.
Cookies.
”

Ivy peeked out at her. “With sugar on top?”

Katie nodded.

Ivy scooted along the floor of the loft until her feet dangled over the edge. Katie kissed her wet cheek.

“Can you come back, Katie?” Ivy asked. “Can you come back and make Mrs. Smith go away?”

Ivy always reminded Katie of her poor sister. In that moment ’twas as if little Eimear were there again, telling Katie how very cold she was, begging her to do something to make her warm again.

“I made Mrs. Smith go away for now.” Katie knew it was only temporary comfort, but she had nothing else to offer. “And I mean to take you home with me for the rest of the day. Will that do?”

Ivy looked the smallest bit relieved.

“Why is it you hide up here, sweetie?”

Ivy shrugged a single shoulder. “It’s quiet.”

Katie could appreciate that. She’d often volunteered to sweep the larder at her first place of employment for just that reason. ’Twas a quiet place with no one about to yell at her or hurt her. She could cry there and not be punished for it.

She looked about the dim loft with its piles of hay. “There are many places to hide,” she said.

Ivy nodded, another tear trickling down her face. Katie’s heart cracked deeply at the sight. Joseph couldn’t possibly be so inattentive as to not see his girls’ unhappiness.

“Let’s go up to my house, Ivy. We’ll forget all about Mrs. Smith for the evening. There’ll be no haylofts or hiding or mean voices. Only sugar-topped cookies for my two very good girls.”

She climbed down the ladder, keeping a close eye on Ivy as she did. With both girls once again on solid ground, Katie held a hand out to each of them.

These girls would have a pleasant night, one filled with all the laughter and smiles and music she could give them.

Joseph’s patience was quickly running thin. A man did not like returning home to find his entire family missing. “Katie took the girls?” he repeated Mrs. Smith’s words, trying to make sense of them.

“Yes. Ivy threw something of a tantrum over a broken flour jar and refused to come down from the hayloft.” Mrs. Smith spoke as she scrubbed the sink basin. “Miss Macauley arrived in the midst of it and, declaring she could do a far better job of addressing the situation than I could, sent me off with instructions to tell you she had taken the girls to her house for the remainder of the day.”

He didn’t fully understand what had passed between the women, but he felt some relief in knowing Katie was with the girls. They, at least, would have passed a pleasant afternoon, which was far more than he could say for himself.

Three hours of trying to talk sense into the thick heads of the Red Road had taken a toll. He was tired, frustrated, and drained.

“You are certain she took the girls to Mrs. Claire’s house?”

“Yes. And that is where she said you could fetch them whenever it was convenient for you.” She looked up from her scrubbing. “I realize I didn’t ask your permission before allowing them to be taken, but seeing as you spend so much time there with Miss Macauley and generally take the girls with you when you go, I didn’t think you would object.”

He didn’t object; he was simply tired. “Make yourself some dinner. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

By the time he reached Mrs. Claire’s house, he was exhausted beyond reason. He was sick to death of the feud, tired of fixing everyone’s problems. He needed sleep. He needed peace. Neither seemed likely anytime soon.

He rapped quick and hard on the door. Mrs. Claire waved at him through the window, motioning him inside.

Joseph stepped through the door, hung his hat on an obliging peg, and unbuttoned his jacket. He told himself not to let his weariness make him impatient. Katie was standing in the middle of the room playing a lively tune on her violin. The girls were dancing about her, giggling and grinning wider than he’d seen in a while—well, at least since the last time he’d come to fetch them at Mrs. Claire’s house.

And why is it I still think of this as
Mrs. Claire’s house
and never Katie’s?
Katie somehow didn’t fit there, even after all the weeks she’d lived with the older woman.

Ian sat next to Biddy, his arm about her shoulder. It relieved Joseph’s mind a great deal to see his friend continuing to recover. Ian’s Michael sat in the corner, reading a book even as he tapped his foot to the music. Little Mary sat on the floor, leaning against her father’s legs, grinning as she watched Katie play.

Joseph’s gaze returned to Katie. He felt as though he could breathe again. More even than her music, her presence brought him a feeling of peace he had desperately needed of late.

The tune came to an end. Both girls dropped to the ground, laughing and exhausted.

Katie looked down at them. “Have you worn yourselves out yet? I don’t know that my fingers can keep up with the two of you much longer.”

“Mrs. Smith doesn’t play the fiddle for us,” Ivy said from her spot on the floor. “Or laugh with us, or sing songs. She just frowns and grumbles.”