LoverforRansom (3 page)

She blew out a sigh and flipped onto her side, hoping sleep
would come. The bed was certainly comfortable enough, with its thick down
mattress and abundance of cool feather pillows that smelled like the clean
Tennessee outdoors. A stark contrast to Boston’s open air, which reeked of
closely quartered people, horse offal and burning coal, all mingled with the
fishy odors drifting from the harbor.

Another scent lingered in the room that pleasantly overrode
all the rest. This was Byrne’s room and he’d left his unmistakable stamp on it.

Cathleen’s impaired sight tended to intensify her other
senses—the decidedly masculine fragrances of spices, horses, leather, fresh
lumber and male musk all but assaulted her, reminding her with every breath of
the man who normally slept in this bed. She stretched her legs, luxuriating in
the silky smoothness of the cotton against her bare skin.

A muffled sound came from the next room, and Cathleen pushed
herself up off the pillows to listen more closely. Again, she heard a whimper.
Jenny…

Throwing back the covers, she slid off the side of the bed,
grateful for her habit of counting steps to familiarize herself with unusual
surroundings.

Eight steps to her bedroom door.

Thirty-six steps to Jenny’s room.

Sometime during the night, Jenny had opened her bedroom
door. “Jenny?” Cathleen called in an authoritative voice. She squinted in the
darkness that was barely lessened by moonlight spilling in through the door to
the balcony.

A gasp tore from the girl’s throat. She twisted wildly
toward the sound. “Who’s there?”

“It’s I, Cathleen, your teacher. What’s the matter, dear?”

“I don’t…I thought I heard—” Fresh sobs gurgled in the
girl’s throat and she burst into tears.

Cathleen rushed across the room and planted a firm hand on
Jenny’s shoulder before sitting beside her and dragging her into an embrace.
“Hush, sweeting. It’s all right now.”

Holding Jenny tightly, Cathleen stroked her hair, soothing
her with soft words until the girl stopped shuddering and sniveling.

A breathless Mrs. Byrne appeared in the doorway. “What’s all
this commotion about?”

“Jenny was experiencing a night terror.”

“A night terror? Oh, Miss Ryan, these sorts of outburst from
her are common at night. The doctor said that we must let her work through
these fears, otherwise—”

Cathleen was appalled. “Work through them?” she interrupted.
“Are you mad? You cannot begin to imagine what losing sight is like. Every
noise, every creak, every thud is amplified tenfold. She’s terrified.”

“But…” Mrs. Byrne stopped talking and her lips formed an O.
Her eyes glittered in the darkness and she began to wring her hands. “I would
never… The doctor said…”

“Well, I’m here now,” Cathleen said, gathering Jenny closer.
“I will help her learn to deal with the heightened senses.”

Cathleen closed her eyes, fighting away her own memories of
night terrors. Steeling herself, she held Jenny back far enough to study the
girl’s face. “Would you like me to stay with you?”

Jenny nodded.

Cathleen caressed the girl’s cheek and coaxed her to lie
back down. Taking Jenny’s hand to reassure her, Cathleen stood. “I think it’s
best if I stay here the rest of the night, Mrs. Byrne. We’ll discuss what else
this
doctor
has told you tomorrow.”

Speechless, Mrs. Byrne nodded. She turned to leave but
stopped. “Miss Ryan, I’m glad you’ve come.”

Cathleen smiled. For the first time since she’d arrived at
Byrne’s End, she was glad she’d come too.

* * * * *

Ransom looked up from the breakfast table, shocked as Jenny
made her way into the room on Miss Ryan’s arm.

What could have possibly happened since his departure last
night to have caused such a change in his sister? Ransom judiciously didn’t
speak, but rather exchanged glances with Sissy. The nickname had been bestowed
on his mother as a child by Aunt Chloe. As the oldest, Ransom had adopted the
term and thus set the trend for Jenny.

Jenny’s hair had been combed to a shine and pulled back in a
bow. She wore a fresh day dress and even though her eyes were fixed, unseeing,
her countenance was bright and flushed with color.

“Where on earth are your manners, son?” Sissy asked, the
nervous warble in her voice evident. “Aren’t you going to pull Miss Ryan’s
chair out?”

The teacher waved her hand at him in dismissal. “I’m quite
capable of seating myself.”

But Ransom was already on his feet. After tossing his napkin
on his chair, he circled the table and pulled Jenny’s chair out.

“Your brother is waiting to seat you,” Miss Ryan whispered
as she gently nudged Jenny into her seat.

Groping, Jenny found the table and then the chair before she
sat. Ransom bent to press a kiss to her cheek. “Good morning, sister.”

Jenny reached up and patted his hand. Wide-eyed, Ransom
turned to the teacher, wondering how this severe little woman, with her plain
mourning gown and black glasses, could have made such a transformation in so
short a time.

“Good morning, Miss Ryan,” he said cheerily as he drew the
chair from her hands and pulled it back for her.

Mouth set in a grim line, she moved around the chair and sat
as he pushed it in. “Thank you, Mr. Byrne.”

“Good morning, Miss Ryan!” Sissy greeted cheerily as a
servant moved around the table, dishing food onto the plates. “I trust after
the…um…unpleasantness, you slept well enough?”

“Very well,” she began, but Ransom butted in.

“Unpleasantness? Thank you, Sally,” he added as a biscuit
landed on his plate.

His mother’s hand fluttered as if she were shooing a bee.
“Jenny had a bad dream.”

“I’ll butter that for you, missy,” Sally whispered to Jenny.

“Thank you but she can do it herself. And it wasn’t a bad
dream at all,” Miss Ryan said as she quietly placed Jenny’s hands on her
cutlery. She guided Jenny’s fingers to the biscuit on her plate and then to the
butter dish. “Would you like to try?”

“I’m afraid I’ll make a mess,” Jenny squeaked.

“Nonsense. You’re learning. It’s perfectly fine for you to
make a mess,” the teacher said patiently. “Careful not to cut yourself.”

Ransom gaped as his sister began the trial and error process
of buttering a biscuit. “Unpleasantness?” he repeated.

Miss Ryan eyed him over the top of her spectacles. “Her
reaction to common sounds that wouldn’t otherwise frighten a sighted person is
perfectly normal. Other senses fill in and can become overwhelming, especially
at night. It’s merely an adjustment Jenny will make with time.”

“Now you won’t have to come to my room in the night
anymore,” Jenny said, directing her comment toward him.

“I knew you’d been going to her.” Sissy shook her head but
gave him a sly smile. “And I’m glad you did. Sally, my tonic?”

Ransom sat back in his seat. He’d hardly made it a secret
that he’d defied the doctor’s orders. “I didn’t think that doctor knew what he
was talking about.”

“It’s a good thing Miss Ryan has come.” Sissy took the little
bottle Sally produced from her pocket. From the ever-present taint on his
mother’s breath, Ransom highly suspected it had been filled with bourbon. She’d
imbibed ever since his grandfather—her father—had died.

Ransom envied her ability to escape. He certainly didn’t
blame her. But he would not afford himself the same luxury. He deserved to
suffer for bringing death and blight home to roost.

“When will you get started teaching Jenny her lessons?”
Sissy inquired.

Just about to put a forkful of egg in her mouth, Miss Ryan
stopped. She straightened. “The
lessons
will involve the entire family
and the servants as well.”

“What do you mean?” Sissy tipped the bottle over her coffee
and poured in at least two tablespoons of the liquid.

“It’s acceptable to use your hands to feel your way around
the table,” the teacher told Jenny as she guided her knife to the top of her
plate. Miss Ryan lifted her gaze. “Jenny is clearly not comfortable with her
surroundings. Everyone at Byrne’s End can help by remembering to perform simple
tasks that will keep the house uniform for Jenny.”

“Such as?” Ransom asked.

“I’ll show you in good time. But for now, we should stop
talking about her as if she weren’t here.”

He tasted his coffee, the realization that he’d been guilty
of treating Jenny differently sitting like a cold stone in his gut. Since she’d
gone blind, he’d treated her as if she were a fragile doll instead of the
horse-riding, rough-housing sister he’d loved to kid before the war.

Maybe entrusting Jenny to this presumptuous Yankee woman was
exactly what they’d all needed.

* * * * *

Ransom lifted his head as he heard Miss Ryan’s unique blend
of Irish brogue and clipped Boston accent. He wiped his brow with his sleeve as
he stepped back from the horse he’d been brushing. He peered out the stable
door. What was that woman up to now?

She stood on the back veranda conversing with Charles, who
nodded and pointed toward the barn. Then together, the pair set off.

Ransom’s brow furrowed. What could she possibly want from
the barn?

There was only one way to find out.

He trekked down the hill and, as he neared the barn, Charles
emerged, carrying a black-and-white puppy.

“What are you doing with that dog?” Ransom asked as Charles
struggled to hold the wriggling puppy.

Miss Ryan stepped out of the shadows, dusting off her
skirts. “I’m taking it to Jenny.”

Ransom strained not to laugh. He raked his fingers through
his hair. “Did you ask Sissy about that?”

The teacher stiffened. Her chin lifted defiantly. “Mrs.
Byrne has given me free rein to teach Jenny as I see fit.”

This time, Ransom did chuckle. “Are you planning on taking
that mongrel inside the house?”

“Of course. I think it would help her sleep. And besides,
I’ve enlisted the help of young Mr. Hunt, here, to train him.”

“
Train
him?” This was growing funnier by the second.

“Yes.” She pushed her glasses up on her pert nose. “Dogs can
be trained to help the blind, besides being invaluable companions.”

“I don’t doubt that, Miss Ryan,” Ransom said. “But Sissy
isn’t going to allow that animal in her house. And even if she bites her tongue
on this, Aunt Chloe won’t.”

The teacher’s lips pursed and then her black eyebrows arched
over the top of her spectacles. “Then I’ll need your powers of persuasion to
convince them, Mr. Byrne.”

“Whoa!” Ransom said, throwing up his hands. “If you want to
face Aunt Chloe’s wrath, go right ahead. I’m not going to be any part of this.”

“But Mr. Byrne, Jenny needs this dog. He’ll help her to feel
safe at night…since you’re no longer in the house.”

Ransom sucked in a sharp breath. Even this woman’s flirting
was tinged with the lash.

“Of course, Jenny and I could trade places with you and set
ourselves up in the house where you’re staying,” the teacher offered. “Provided
there’d be no objection to this darling little puppy there.”

The woman just wouldn’t be dissuaded. And Ransom couldn’t
find fault with her argument. A dog would be a welcome distraction for his
sister, and might also serve to get her out of the house. “Very well,” he said,
and reached to take the dog from Charles.

He ignored the way the Yankee woman’s smug smile irritated
him as he strode purposefully toward the house. “Come along. Let’s face the
salvo of fire we’ll most surely endure from Sissy and Aunt Chloe.”

He scratched the dog behind the ears to soothe its squirming
and was rewarded with a sound, sloppy lick to the hand.

Charles veered off as they closed in on the house.

“Where are you going?” Ransom asked.

“I volunteered to train the dog,” Charles said. “I never
said I’d ask Aunt Chloe if Jenny could keep him.”

Ransom laughed heartily. “You run on, then.”

“Thank you for your help, Charles!” Miss Ryan called after
the boy as he disappeared around the side of the house.

Ransom stepped onto the porch and opened the door. “After
you,” he said, stepping aside so Miss Ryan could pass in front of him.

Some of the earlier bravado she’d possessed had wilted. She
gnawed her bottom lip as she slipped off her spectacles and pocketed them.

“Sissy!” Ransom called.

Feather duster in hand, she stepped into the downstairs
hall, followed by Aunt Chloe, who looked more than formidable with her broom.
They looked like mismatched twins in their calico day dresses and aprons with
their hair covered by white kerchiefs.

“What are you doing with that mutt?” Aunt Chloe asked, her
scurrilous gaze darting back and forth between Ransom and Miss Ryan.

Ransom looked at the suddenly mousy teacher. She cleared her
throat. “I…I think Jenny would benefit from having the responsibility of caring
for a pet.”

“A pet?” his mother asked.

At the same time, Aunt Chloe declared, “Not in this house.”

“Told you,” Ransom muttered. The dog whimpered as if to
protest on his own behalf.

Sissy’s eyes rounded. “I don’t know about this.”

“I know about it,” Aunt Chloe blurted. “And I ain’t about to
clean up after no mongrel dog.”

“That’s the point,” Miss Ryan stated. “It will be Jenny’s
job to clean up after him.” She turned to Ransom’s mother. “And the dog will be
a great comfort to her at night. He can be trained to assist her.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Mrs. Byrne. I’ve seen trained dogs before. The strides
being made in Europe are really quite amazing and—”

“A dog?” Jenny’s hopeful voice rang out from the top of the
stairs. “For me?”

Ransom’s breath caught when a hand squeezed his arm. He
turned to find Miss Ryan mouthing the word
please
. In spite of her rigid
exterior, she suddenly seemed vulnerable. His stomach tightened and, for
several steep seconds, his gaze fixed on her lips. He’d never before noticed
how soft they looked. How full.