The Pattern of Her Heart (11 page)

Katherine rubbed her tummy while wagging her head back and forth. “I have enough room for me cake.”

Rogan laughed and ruffled Katherine’s hair. “Ya’ll have yar share of trouble gettin’ sweets away from this one, Paddy.”

They finished their supper, and while Kiara cleared and washed the dishes, the men settled on the front porch and watched as Nevan and Katherine attempted to capture fireflies in the front yard.

“Looks like that’s me cousin Bridgett headin’ this direction,” Rogan said, using his pipe as a pointer, a curl of smoke rising from it.

“And who’s that with her?” Paddy asked.

Rogan shook his head and squinted. “I do na think I know the lass,” he replied as Kiara stepped out the door and joined them on the porch.

“Bridgett said she might be bringin’ along one of the girls from work,” Kiara informed her husband and brother.

“Does she attend St. Patrick’s?” Rogan asked.

“I do na know. She’s new to Lowell and to the mills. I think Bridgett has taken a likin’ to her.”

Paddy watched from the porch as the twosome drew closer. Bridgett was gesturing wildly, and her lips were moving as rapidly as water pouring over the falls. Except for aging a bit, Bridgett hadn’t changed much since Paddy and Kiara had first met her aboard the ship on their voyage to America. Bridgett, with her auburn hair and fiery temper, had been delighted when she learned Paddy and Kiara were traveling to the same town in Massachusetts. The three of them had been shipmates and then journeyed on to Lowell, where Bridgett moved into the Acre with Rogan and her granna Murphy, and Kiara and Paddy headed off in another direction to become indentured servants.

“It seems a lifetime ago since we first met Bridgett . . . and yet only yesterday,” Paddy said to his sister.

“Aye, yet I’m happy to be livin’ in the present and not the past.”

Paddy nodded knowingly. “I hear Bridgett has finally got herself engaged.”

“I’m makin’ her weddin’ veil and the lace for her gown,” Kiara said. “She’s wantin’ to take a wee look at what I’ve got finished.”

“A wee look? The last time me cousin came for a wee look, she was here for three hours,” Rogan said with a hearty laugh. “So if there’s any talkin’ ya’re wantin’ to do with yar sister, ya best be speakin’ up in a hurry.”

Bridgett waved as she and her friend turned onto the flower-lined path leading to the front steps. “Sounds as though ya’re havin’ a merry time. We could hear ya laughin’ a half-mile away.”

“Do na be telling a fib afore ya ever reach the front door, Bridgett Farrell,” Rogan called out to his cousin.

“ ’Tis the truth I’m speakin’ and ya know it fer certain,” Bridgett said as she reached the front porch. “This is me friend, Mary Margaret O’Flannery. She’s na yet been given her own looms, but she’s training with me at the mill. Mr. Dempsey’s been watchin’ her, and he said she’d likely be on her own in another week,” Bridgett announced, beaming at her new friend. “Mary Margaret, this is me cousin Rogan Sheehan and his wife, Kiara. This fine-lookin’ lad is Kiara’s brother, Padraig O’Neill. And the two lovelies out there catchin’ fireflies are Nevan and Katherine.”

“Pleased to make yar acquaintance,” Kiara said while the others echoed. “Perhaps we can sit out here where it’s a wee bit cooler than in the house.”

Paddy watched as Mary Margaret sat down beside Bridgett on the carved wooden bench. She was a pretty lass, with long, slender fingers as creamy and white as a piece of ivory and thick auburn hair that had been fashioned into a braid and coiled atop her head.

“Do ya find the mills to be to yar likin’, Mary Margaret?” Rogan asked.

“Aye. ’Tis true it’s hot and humid inside the mills, but the pay is good, and if I get me own looms, I won’t be complainin’ about conditions. Bridgett tells me ya’re a stone carver.”

“Aye. Liam Donohue taught me the trade, and he’s a far better carver. But together we’re managin’ a fine business.”

“I took her through the cemetery on our way here,” Bridgett put in, “and showed her the headstones you and Liam have carved with the shamrocks.”

Rogan laughed. “And did ya show her the ones carved by the Yankees? They tried to carve shamrocks, but their shamrocks turned out lookin’ more like trees. Back then, the Yanks had na seen what a shamrock looked like—but at least they tried to engrave somethin’ that resembled one.”

“And what do ya think of Lowell?” Kiara inquired. “Are ya findin’ it altogether fine?”

“ ’Tis nice enough, I suppose.”

At least ten questions popped into Paddy’s head that he wanted to ask Miss Mary Margaret O’Flannery, but before he’d had a chance to ask even one, Bridgett called a halt to the visiting and insisted that the ladies go inside.

“I’m thinkin’ it might be cool enough to step inside for a few minutes,” she said. “It’s anxious I am to be seein’ what ya’ve accomplished on my veil and the lace for my dress.”

“It’s anxious ya are to be
married,
” Rogan retorted with a broad grin. “I think Granna Murphy was beginnin’ to think she’d never see ya put yar bottom drawer of linens and finery to use.”

“Stop with yar teasin’—I’m na yet thirty, and a good single man is na easy to find in these parts. And ya need na be worryin’ yarself over my bottom drawer. Every last piece of my finery will be put to
good
use.”

“Ya best keep that information in mind, Mary Margaret. It pays for a lass to keep a sharp eye for a good lad,” Rogan said. He slapped a palm to his forehead. “In fact—ya might want to remember that Paddy is an upstanding lad who’s still not found him a lass to call his own. Isn’t that right, Paddy?”

Paddy felt the blood rush to his cheeks and shot a quick look at Mary Margaret, who had visibly blanched to the shade of pale parchment. Fearing the lass might faint, Paddy moved to her side and supported her with one arm.

“Ya need na pay Rogan any heed. The man enjoys causin’ others discomfort. Let me help ya to a chair inside, and once ya sit down, I’ll fetch ya a glass of cool water,” Paddy said, leading her into the house.

Paddy glanced over his shoulder at Rogan as he escorted Mary Margaret inside. Rogan gave him an exaggerated wink. “Ya can thank me later,” Rogan whispered loudly enough for all of them to hear. “If yar na havin’ that weddin’ too soon, Bridgett, maybe Paddy and Mary Margaret could join you and Cullen at the altar and have ya a double weddin’,” he added with a loud guffaw.

Paddy gazed heavenward and wondered if the meat pie and nut cake he’d eaten only a short time ago were worth the embarrassment of the moment. And poor Mary Margaret—she’d not even had the pleasure of Kiara’s cooking before being subjected to Rogan’s torment!

T
HE WHITE COTTON
curtains fluttered at the window as a breeze drifted into the kitchen of Elinor’s boardinghouse. Although she’d mixed and set the bread dough to rise before the girls departed for the mills, the kitchen had already become uncomfortably warm when she finally placed the loaves in the oven. After wiping her hands on a linen towel, she removed her stained apron and tossed it atop the wooden worktable. If she hurried, she would have time to take a cool, damp cloth to her face and properly fashion her hair before the girls arrived for the noonday meal.

Unbraiding her hair as she walked down the hallway, she stopped short as a knock sounded at the door. Holding her unbridled tresses in one hand, she stared at the door. “Who could that be?” she muttered.

For a brief moment, she contemplated ignoring the unwelcome interruption but finally yielded. A new boarder might be standing on the other side of the door, and she could certainly use the additional funds. Still holding tightly to her loosened hair, she yanked the door open with her free hand. Her mouth went dry. Oh, why hadn’t she ignored the knock?

Justin Chamberlain stood across the threshold, staring at her. His lips were moving, but the only sound that she heard was the roaring noise in her head. After his lips stopped moving, he smiled and waited.

Utterly embarrassed by her unkempt appearance, Elinor stood rooted to the floor, unable to speak. After all, what respectable woman would answer the door in such disarray? It wasn’t until the pastor had turned and stepped down off the small stoop that she finally found her voice.

“Please! Wait! I apologize. I didn’t expect to see you when I opened the door. I thought perhaps it was a boarder that had come looking for a room. I was going to my rooms to brush my hair. I don’t usually wait until so late in the morning to prepare myself for the day,” she hastily explained.

Her words flowed forth like a babbling brook, and Justin grinned as he returned. “I’m the one who should apologize. It was rude of me to appear on your doorstep without first inquiring when it would be convenient to come calling. However, I find myself in a dilemma. I’ve been praying for an answer to my problem and you came to mind. Not that you should . . . well, that is . . . consider yourself a-a . . . divine answer to my prayer and feel . . . well . . . compelled to fulfill my request,” he hastened to add.

He was stammering and tripping over his words, and now Elinor smiled at him. “Come in, Pastor Chamberlain.” She stepped back to allow him entry. “I promise I won’t feel duty bound to carry out your request if you’ll promise to overlook my untidy appearance,” “You don’t look untidy in the least.”

The pastor was stretching the truth with his kind remark, but at least his words helped ease her self-consciousness. She directed him to the parlor and then said, “If you’ll excuse me for one moment, I’ll find a ribbon to tie back my hair; then I’ll join you. Do be seated.”

Moments later, Elinor rejoined the pastor, who, instead of sitting, was pacing back and forth in front of the faded settee. “You could quickly wear out a carpet with your pacing,” she said lightheartedly. “How may I help you?”

Justin immediately ceased his pacing and sat down opposite her, hunching forward and resting his arms atop his thighs. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. The poor man appeared to be at a complete loss as to how he should begin speaking to her.

“Is there a committee at the church you need me to assist with?” she asked, hoping to aid him.

“No. In truth, this has nothing to do with the church. Things are going as well as can be expected. It’s generally difficult when a congregation must adjust to a new preacher—and his daughter,” he added.

“And even more difficult for the preacher and his daughter to adjust to a new community, I would guess.”

“Not so difficult for me. I was ready for a change. But the move has been more challenging for Reggie.”

“Most people say that children easily adapt to change, and I suppose to some extent that is true. But for some it proves a difficult task. Reggie is a charming young lady, and eventually she will find her niche here in Lowell. You must give her time.”

Justin appeared to relax and settled his weight against the back of the cushioned chair. “Reggie is the reason I’ve come to speak with you.” His voice cracked.

“There is some problem? Has she taken ill?”

“No, nothing so easily solved as a visit to the doctor,” he replied. “This matter is a bit more complex. When you visited the parsonage with Reggie, you may have noticed the house was rather sparsely furnished.”

“Well, yes, but Reggie told me the remainder of your household goods were in Maine and that you would be going back to retrieve them before summer’s end.”

“Exactly—and therein lies my problem. I should have returned to Maine before now, but the timing never seemed proper. And now school will soon begin. I must go after our belongings before winter sets in, yet I don’t want Reggie to miss school, especially the beginning of the school year. I fear that being gone when school begins will only make her adjustment more difficult.”

Elinor tucked an errant strand of hair behind one ear. “I agree.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and Elinor suddenly realized the preacher’s dilemma. “You want Reggie to live here at the boardinghouse while you go to Maine?”

“I know it’s a great deal to ask, what with all your other responsibilities here at the boardinghouse and throughout the community. Preparing a little girl for school each morning when you’re already busy cooking three substantial meals for your boarders and . . .” His voice trailed off.

She tapped her finger across her lips and thought for a moment. “Do you think it might be more suitable to have Reggie live with someone who has children—perhaps a girl her own age?”

“I truly understand your reluctance to take on such a responsibility,” he said.

“I’m not averse to the arrangement; I was merely wondering if your daughter would be happier and adjust more easily if she were with other children.”

Justin folded his hands and met her gaze. “You went fishing with Reggie, and she tells me she’s stopped by on a couple of occasions to visit you.”

Elinor nodded.

“Then I’m certain you realize Reggie is not a child who makes friends with other young ladies—she’s not a girl who fancies learning how to set a proper table or dress in the latest fashions. She likely would choose to stay with the Houston family, but they’ve already departed Lowell. Besides, I probably would not have made such a request of folks who aren’t members of the church. To do such a thing would surely have caused tongues to wag,” he said with a weary expression.