Longing for Home (41 page)

“M’ daughter lives in Belfast. She sent me the tea for my last birthday, she did.”

“A fine gift, that.” Katie set the tin back but straightened a few things around it as she did. “Your daughter lives in Belfast, does she? In which part?”

Katie kept Mrs. Claire talking. She asked questions about her daughter and grandchildren. She even shared stories of her own time in Belfast. And she worked as they visited. She washed the dishes and cleared the table.

Just as Katie reached for the broom, a knock sounded at the door. “Who might that be?”

“’Tis Tavish. I can see him standing at the door.” Mrs. Claire watched through the window. “He’s waving to me. Do you think we should let him in?”

Katie found herself firmly in the mood for a bit of teasing. She crossed to the doorway and sent a grin in Mrs. Claire’s direction. “Who are you knockin’ on the door?” she asked in her most foreboding voice.

“Katie?” Tavish sounded surprised.

“You don’t sound like a ‘Katie’ to me,” she called back. “You sound like an unrepentant mischief maker.”

Mrs. Claire’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. The woman looked twenty years younger in that moment.

“If you don’t let me in, dear,” Tavish said, “I’ll show you just how much mischief I can make.”

Katie could see Mrs. Claire was enjoying this as much as she.

“I assure you, I’m quaking in my boots at
that
threat,” Katie said through the door.

Tavish appeared at the open window in the next moment. He raised an eyebrow at Mrs. Claire sitting there. “I’ve a feeling you’re encouraging her, Granny.”

“I’m only agreein’ with her. Takes some work to be afraid of a lad who calls himself ‘Katie.’”

Tavish shook his head. “I’m beginning to think introducing the two of you was not the wisest thing I ever did.”

Mrs. Claire exchanged a knowing look with Katie. “’Tis good when a man can admit he’s not very bright.”

Katie pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to hold back a laugh. Mrs. Claire didn’t bother keeping her amusement hidden.

“The two of you together are trouble, and no denying it.”

Katie moved to the window. “Good evening there, Mr. Katie.”

He shook his head, smiling at her. “You gonna let me in, darlin’?”

“Keep calling me darlin’ and I just might.”

Tavish shifted so he looked directly through the window at her. “Open the door, Sweet Katie.”

She shrugged and glanced at Mrs. Claire. “What say you? Should we let him in out of the wind? Or should we leave him there to ponder just how to sweeten us up a bit more?”

“I suppose we’d best let him in.” Mrs. Claire sighed as if terribly put upon. “He’s such a wee little thing, he’s like to blow away with the slightest gust.”

“And that would be a full tragedy, it would,” Katie said dryly.

Tavish dropped his head into his hands. Katie and Mrs. Claire laughed.

“The door’s not locked,” Katie said. “Let your own self in.”

In the next instant, Tavish stepped inside, eyeing them both warily. “Are the two of you through teasing me, then?”

“I make no promises,” Katie answered.

Tavish leaned down and kissed Mrs. Claire on the cheek. “How is life treating you today, Granny?”

Mrs. Claire patted his face. “Better and better.”

“Precisely how I’d feel if Katie were spending an evening with me.” Tavish winked.

Katie felt her face flush.

Mrs. Claire began rocking again. “And how would you feel if she talked your ear off, hoping to distract you while she slyly set herself to cleaning your house?”

“I wasn’t fooling you, then?” Katie should have known.

“’Twasn’t yesterday I was born.”

Katie moved back toward the kitchen. “I’ll just sweep up, then, and not worry about finding a way to keep you from noticing.”

“I shouldn’t let you.” Mrs. Claire shook her head. “But pride is only friend to a fool.”

Katie took up the broom and set to work once more.

“Seems Katie and I are thinking alike,” Tavish said to Mrs. Claire. “I stopped in to see if I could chop you some wood. Looks like rain again tonight, and the air might grow chill.”

Mrs. Claire’s shoulders drooped a bit. “Growing old is a hard thing, it is.”

“Aye,” Tavish said, “but ’tis a difficulty too many are denied the privilege of enduring.”

That perked her up a bit. “Keep your philosophizin’ to yourself, Tavish O’Connor, and get to work on that firewood.”

He passed Katie on his way to the back door. He tipped a crooked smile at her. “And how have
you
been?”

She swept as she spoke. “Busy I’ve been. Busy and worn. But it’s best to leave the bad tale where you found it, so I’ll not stretch it far and wide.”

“But you’re well?” he pressed. “And no one’s threatened you or made trouble?”

She shook her head. “No more than usual. I’m watched all the time. And the Red Road comes by the house often to ask Joseph how much longer I’ll be overstepping my rightful boundary.”

“And you’re not leaving Joseph’s property alone?”

“No.” Though Katie rarely had reason to leave the Archer farm, she did, at times, feel as though she were imprisoned by its boundaries. There was some safety to be found there, but she was chafing under the limits of it. “Has anyone yet solved the mystery of that small fire at the blacksmith shop?”

Tavish leaned against the frame of the closed door in the makeshift kitchen. “It’s impossible to tell if the fire was set intentionally or merely a bit of bad luck. Far too many of our countrymen are determined to believe it deliberate and to exact some form of revenge.”

“And the Reds?” Katie could easily imagine how such a small thing could grow bigger than them all. Blame and vengeance rarely led to clear-headed decisions.

“None have admitted to anything, though they aren’t exactly weeping over the damage to Seamus’s establishment.”

Katie paused in her sweeping, her mind too burdened for anything but thinking on their troubles. Hers was the only other Irish business. ’Twas no wonder they so desperately needed to see that she hadn’t given up. If she and the smithy were both brought low, it would be a blow to the Irish confidence indeed.

“No more of this heavy talk, now,” Tavish said. “Tonight’s a céilí night. There’ll only be smiles and light hearts this evening.”

She tossed him a challenging look. “And who’s to make certain of that, I’d like to know.”

“Are you doubting the joy of my company, darlin’? I think you know full well that you shouldn’t.”

“Just how would I know that when I’ve had so little of it lately?”

He chuckled. “We’ll remedy that tonight, sweetheart.” And he slipped out.

“That is a man who knows just exactly how charming he is.” Katie looked to Mrs. Claire. “Seems a dangerous thing to me.”

“’Tis only dangerous if the man himself is dangerous.” Mrs. Claire rocked slowly, her look a little more contented, if not entirely happy with the world. “Excepting my own sweet, departed husband, Tavish O’Connor is the very best of men.”

Katie swept out the corners around the stove. She’d do as thorough a job as she could. “The very best, is he? And you’re not a little partial to your grandson?”

“He’s not my grandson.”

Surprise stopped Katie on the spot. Not her grandson? “But he calls you Granny.”

“He was engaged to my granddaughter Bridget before the fever took her.”

Katie wondered why she’d not made the connection. Their last names were the same, after all. Then again, Tavish had never spoken to her of his late fiancée, so she really knew very few details about her. “I am sorry you lost your granddaughter.”

“She and her brother and her parents—my son and his wife—and my dear husband all died within two days of each other.”

Katie’s heart ached at the thought of so much pain. How much she hurt at losing but one member of her family. This woman had lost five in a matter of days. She’d been even more alone in life than Katie.

“I’ll tell you, I fully expected Tavish to cut the connection between us. But he still calls me his granny and treats me with such love and kindness as some don’t receive even from their own kin.”

For all his teasing, Tavish was proving himself a man of dependability and kindness. “Anyone can see how much he loves you.”

“Perhaps I’m stepping beyond myself,” Mrs. Claire said, “but I might say those same words to you, Katie.”

The dustpan she held hit the floor with a clank.

Mrs. Claire laughed long and heartily. “You weren’t expecting that, now were you?” She pressed a hand to her heart as she kept laughing and rocking. “And that there is the look of a woman plagued with uncertainty.”

“I’m not plagued.” She swept up the scattered dust. “A bit bothered, yes, but not plagued.”

“Leave the floor be, Katie, and come sit with me a piece.”

She pulled a spindle-legged chair up next to Mrs. Claire’s rocker. “Is there something I can do for you other than the floors?”

Mrs. Claire patted her hand. “I do thank you for the work you’ve done, but just now I’m wanting company more than a clean house.”

“Don’t give me that pitiful face, you old schemer.” Katie could have laughed at the dramatic look she was receiving. “It’s not company you’re wanting but a chance to tease me about Tavish.”

“Perhaps a little.” Mrs. Claire leaned a touch closer. “Mostly I want to know what it is you’re uncertain about, your own feelings or his?”

Katie laid one arm over the back of her chair and turned to face Mrs. Claire a little more. “There was a time I’d not have believed a word he said to me. All he ever did was tease.” Heavens, she’d not even liked him at first. “But I’ve come to know him better.”

Mrs. Claire nodded. “And now when he tells you he cares, you believe him.”

“Aye.”

“Then it’s your own feelings that you remain uncertain of?”

“No. I’m well on my way to being in love with him.” Likely more than simply “on her way.”

“But I can see you hold back.” Mrs. Claire studied her. All at once her ponderous gaze filled with understanding. Her brows shot up, her mouth forming a small circle. “Aye, now that does make a great deal of sense.” She nodded. “Joseph is a complication, is he not?”

Heavens, had she been so obvious? “I—”

“Don’t go fretting, dear. I doubt anyone’s pieced it together.” Mrs. Claire’s sharp gaze narrowed on her. “I can see you’re trying to decide where your heart truly lies.”

Katie nodded. “I do like them both. They’re fine men and kind, and I enjoy their company. And Joseph’s little girls—”

“You don’t marry a man for his children, dear.”

Marry?
When had things moved to
that
point?

Mrs. Claire laughed deep and loud. “Frightened you a bit, did I?” She laughed all the more as she rocked back and forth. “You’ll forgive an old woman for giving you advice after advice, but I’ll tell you, sweet lass, both Joseph and Tavish are fine men, and you’d do well to give your heart to either one of them. But take time to sort it all out. An important decision should never be made in haste.”

Tavish came inside in the next moment, his arms full of firewood. “There is a storm brewing outside, and no mistaking.” He set a load down in the basket near the stove.

Katie couldn’t look up at him. She’d been too tossed about by Mrs. Claire.

Tavish dropped the rest of his armful of wood at the fireplace. “How long has your back door been catching?”

“I’d say things’ve been sticking for some time now.” Mrs. Claire gave Katie such a look of mischief. “And isn’t that a terrible thing, Katie? To have so much that’s
sticking?
Not moving in any useful direction. Terrible, terrible.”

“Stop it,” Katie muttered but found a smile creeping up from deep inside. She peeked over at Tavish. Did he have any idea his granny was teasing her about him?

About him and Joseph Archer.
She really did need to straighten her heart out.

Tavish brushed dirt from the wood off his hands. “Would you mind if I come by on Monday morning and plane it properly?” Apparently he’d not noticed his granny making mischief.

“I’d be appreciative if you did what you could to straighten things out.” Mrs. Claire actually wiggled her eyebrows at Katie.

Tavish finally seemed to catch the undercurrent. “Have I missed something?”

“A few of the windows stick too.” Mrs. Claire suddenly took up his topic of conversation.

Tavish looked from one to the other but finally shook his head. “’Tis likely the change in weather. I’ll check them all on Monday.”

“That is very good of you, Tavish.”

“‘Good of me’?” His denial was humorously overblown. “I’m only after doing this so when you’re dead, your ghost won’t haunt me.”

Mrs. Claire laughed, her sweet face wrinkling in the happiest of lines. How easily he pleased his granny, a woman who was not actually his kin. ’Twas little wonder Katie loved the man. His was a kind and giving heart.

“I don’t know what that look is, Sweet Katie, but I like it.”

She crossed to where he stood by the fireplace. He took her hand between his.

“You’re a good man, Tavish O’Connor.” Perhaps the best she’d ever known.

His smile turned amusedly doubtful. “Says the woman who sat with a vicious hatpin in her hand the entire first two hours she knew me.”

“You noticed that, did you?”

“I noticed everything about you.” He cupped her face with his hand. “I noticed you were scared half out of your mind.” His thumb brushed her cheek. “That you listened to what we said, but pretended you didn’t. That you had the deepest brown eyes I’d ever seen in all my life.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile grew. “And that you hated me on sight.”

She
had
hated him. She’d thought him arrogant and untrustworthy and a man best avoided. How very wrong she’d been. Katie leaned against his shoulder. There was such immediate comfort in his nearness.

“Well, now.” Tavish wrapped his arms around her. “This is a fine way to spend an evening.”

She closed her eyes and committed the feeling of the moment to memory. His embrace was warm and gentle. And, heavens, he smelled good.