Irish Meadows (30 page)

Gripping the arm of the chair, he pulled himself to standing, his legs as unsteady as his heart. “Colleen, what on earth are you doing here?”

Colleen willed her erratic pulse to settle and took a few tentative steps into the room. Rylan looked so different in his plain brown cassock—almost monk-like. Still, she couldn't tear her gaze away from him—afraid if she blinked, he'd disappear and she'd discover it was all a dream.

Nervous perspiration dampened the back of her dress. “I came to see you, of course.”

“Why?” Those chocolate-brown eyes fixed on her with an intensity that left her knees weak.

She prayed for guidance, for the right words to say to the man she loved. “I needed to see you. To find out what you've decided and make my peace with it—one way or another.” She came closer, longing to smell the familiar sandalwood soap and peppermint.

An expression of near terror leapt into his eyes. He took a step backward, almost tripping over the base of the lamp beside the chair.

“How have you been, Rylan?”

“Well enough. And you?”

She fought the urge to laugh at their polite trivialities. Instead she leveled him with a long look. “I've been miserable.” When his gaze slid away, she wasn't brave enough to close the gap between them. “You never answered my letters,” she continued. “So I decided to come and see for myself where things
stand.” Her hands shook almost as much as her knees. “May I have a seat?”

“Of course. Please make yourself comfortable.”

She lowered herself to the sofa, but Rylan remained standing by the hearth, eyes glued to the floor. Her spirits sank. This was far from the joyous reaction she'd envisioned—he didn't seem the least bit happy to see her. In fact, he looked as though he wished she'd march right back out of the room.

“Have you come to a decision?” she dared ask.

He slowly shook his head. “Not yet.” A muscle pulsed in his jaw, his expression wretched.

Sorrow clutched her throat. She'd never expected her presence to cause him such misery. Secretly she'd hoped that he'd be overcome with joy and sweep her into his arms with a passionate kiss. Instead, they faced each other like two strangers, trying to drum up conversation, a veil of tension between them.

Gathering her courage, she rose and went to stand before him. “Forgive me, Rylan. I didn't mean to cause you such distress, showing up here unannounced.” Another wave of sorrow swept over her. “I needed to know where things stood between us, and I can see the answer on your face.” She swallowed back the threat of tears. “I wish you nothing but the best for the future. I will never forget you—or the happiness you brought to my life.”

She let her gaze linger on him another moment, wanting to memorize every inch of his beloved face. On a spasm of grief, she turned to leave.

His hand shot out to snag her fingers, and the anguish in his eyes stole her breath.

“My mother may be dying.”

“Oh, Rylan.” Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him. “I'm so sorry.”

A tremor went through him as he lowered his forehead to
hers, tears dampening his cheeks. Another thing she loved about him—he was never ashamed to show his feelings. She held him without saying a word until she sensed he'd regained his composure. Then she moved back to see his face. “Are you going back to Ireland?”

He rubbed a hand over the bridge of his nose. “I don't know. I've just found out and haven't had time to think.”

A fierce determination came over her. The man she loved was suffering, and she now found herself in a position to offer comfort and counsel, things he'd given her in abundance. She took his hand and led him to the sofa.

“You must go to her, Rylan. You'll regret it for the rest of your life if you don't. The seminary will always be here, but your mother may not.” She was glad he made no move to take his fingers from hers. “One thing I've learned from Daddy's illness is not to waste the precious time we have. We never know when our loved ones could be taken away. I'm so grateful I got to tell Daddy how much he means to me.” Her voice broke, and she lowered her gaze to their entwined hands.

He tipped her chin up, and for one dizzying moment, she thought he might kiss her. But he merely brushed a tear from her cheek and gave her a very sad smile. “You're right, of course. I must go home.”

More tears blurred her vision as the awful truth dawned. “You won't be coming back, will you? You'll want to stay and help your siblings.”

He sighed. “I'll have to wait and see. Maybe we'll be lucky and Mum will pull through.”

She nodded and took in a long breath for fortification. “Well, I'd better go and let you make your arrangements.”

They rose together, hands still joined. His warmth radiated through her palms.

“Thank you for coming, Colleen. It was so good to see you.” Longing and misery shone in the dark depths of his eyes.

Her heart threatened to crack in two. How she wished she could embrace him, feel his lips on hers once more—but she would not violate the sanctity of this holy place. She reached up to brush an innocent kiss across his cheek, inhaling his familiar masculine scent, and then she rushed from the room before she fell apart.

B
RIANNA
SAT
ON
THE
BACK
PORCH
,
staring out over the dirt track where Sam exercised Morgan's Promise. The midmorning sun bathed the veranda's floorboards in soft light while the gentle breeze teased her senses with the last traces of Mama's roses.

She fingered the envelope on her lap—the one Gil had left for her yesterday morning—turning it over and over. Though she'd memorized every word of the note he'd written, she still slid the stationery out and unfolded it.

Brianna,

Colleen asked me to accompany her on a trip today. She needed an escort, and I agreed to take her. She asked me to keep this confidential, so if you want to know more, you'll have to ask her.

What you witnessed between us last night was completely innocent. I cannot pretend your lack of faith in me is not troubling, not to mention your constant hostility
toward your sister. I'm praying the Lord will heal the bitterness between you and Colleen. Family ties should never be discarded lightly. Take it from someone who has no family.

Don't wait up, as we will be returning on the last train.

Gil

Brianna folded the notepaper and returned it to the envelope. It was obvious he was angry with her. Angry and disappointed. He'd made her sound like a jealous shrew, but no one could fully understand her toxic history with Colleen. Not even Gil.

Brianna wanted to believe her sister had changed. That she'd found a new spirituality and that her request for Brianna's forgiveness had been real. But finding Colleen in Gil's bedroom so late at night made it almost impossible. Didn't she have the right to be angry?

The French doors whispered opened, and someone stepped onto the porch. Brianna stared straight ahead, hoping whoever it was would carry on and leave her to her brooding. Luck was not on her side. Without a word, Colleen sat down on the chair beside her. Brianna bristled, prepared to take her resentment out to the barn where she could nurse it in private, but one look at her sister's face riveted her in place. Colleen's usually rosy complexion was blanched whiter than the paint on the plank floor, her red-rimmed eyes standing out in stark relief. What had happened to cause her such grief? Did it have anything to do with the mysterious trip yesterday?

Before Brianna could recover her voice, Colleen turned bleak eyes to her. “I owe Gil a favor, so I'm going to explain something to you.”

Unsure how to respond, Brianna waited in silence for her sister to continue.

“I asked Gil to go with me to Boston yesterday—to see Rylan.”

Brianna's stomach dropped. So this wasn't about Gil at all.

“In hindsight,” Colleen continued, “it might not have been the most prudent course of action to go to his room, but at the time, I didn't know how else to catch him alone.” She paused. “Judging by my past mistakes, I can see how you might think badly of me and jump to the wrong conclusion. But I don't see how you can claim to love Gil and believe him capable of such dishonorable behavior.”

Brianna's cheeks flamed with misery. Colleen was right. Gil had never given her any cause to doubt him.
Except propose marriage to a woman he didn't love.
She pushed that treacherous thought away. After all, these circumstances were entirely different.

“Gil made me see that it may take time for you to accept that I've truly changed and that I need to give you another chance.” Colleen attempted a smile. “That man loves you more than anything. Don't ruin a good thing, Brianna. If you constantly doubt his fidelity, you'll drive him away.”

Brianna bit her lip. “I owe you an apology, Colleen, for assuming you were trying to hurt me. I should have given you a chance to explain.”

“Yes, you should have. Gil wanted to invite you to go with us—before you attacked him.”

Shame burned hot in her chest. What sort of Christian example was she setting when she reacted with anger and jealousy?

Lord, forgive me for not trusting
my sister and Gil, for not trusting You.

She took a long breath. “If I promise to give you the benefit of the doubt from now on, can you forgive me?”

Brianna was relieved to see a softening of Colleen's pinched features.

“I've already forgiven you,” she said softly.

Brianna's throat constricted. “Thank you.”

“It's the least I owe you after all the times I've hurt you.” Colleen rose from her chair and smoothed out her skirts. “Now,
if I were you, I'd go and apologize to Gil. He's working in the study, trying to catch up on the work he missed yesterday.”

Brianna jumped up. “Wait. What happened with Rylan in Boston?”

Colleen lifted her chin, her hands clutched together in front of her. A wave of hurt crashed over her features. “We spoke. I don't think he's reached a decision yet. In any case, he's on his way to Ireland. His mother is quite ill.”

No wonder she'd been crying. Impulsively, Brianna moved to gather Colleen in a hug. “I'm so sorry. The waiting must be intolerable.”

Colleen's stiff figure sagged for a moment before she pulled away. “It is. Harder still to know he's so far away, and”—her voice caught—“that he may never come back.”

Brianna looped her arm through Colleen's. Her sister needed a distraction in a big way. An idea formed—one that might go a long way toward making amends for her bad behavior and help Colleen at the same time. “Could you use another volunteer at the orphanage? I enjoyed the time I spent there and would love to go back. We could ride together on the train tomorrow.”

Colleen nodded as tears filled her eyes. “Thank you, Bree. I'd like that very much.”

Gil tried to concentrate on the figures in front of him but found his thoughts constantly circling back to Brianna. He'd had many hours on the train yesterday to rethink the message he'd left for her. If he had to do it again, he'd have toned down his indignation, or at least tempered it with understanding. Had his anger succeeded in pushing Bree away for good?

His pencil snapped in two. Gil bit back an oath. Restless, he got up to pace the carpet, forcing himself not to rush through the house to find Brianna and beg her forgiveness. This time he had to hold out and wait for her to come to him.

He moved to the window and peered out through the lace curtains at the immaculate lawns and the front garden in full bloom. He should be outside enjoying this day instead of glued to a desk chair.

“Gil, may I speak with you for a moment?”

Gil turned from the window to see Brianna standing in the doorway, as bright as a sunflower in a yellow dress. He took a second to recover his equilibrium, then motioned to the chair across from the desk.

“Could we sit by the fireplace? A little less formal.” Her hesitant tone led him to wonder if she'd had a change of heart. At least he didn't detect any remaining anger on her part.

“Of course.” He moved to sit at the opposite end of the settee, careful to keep a distance, both physically and emotionally.

She seemed nervous, perched on the edge of the seat. At last, she raised her eyes to his, uncertainty swirling in their green depths. “I came to apologize for the other night. I should never have jumped to such horrible conclusions about you and Colleen. I . . . I hope you can forgive me.”

As much as he wanted to, he needed further reassurance before he granted absolution. “How do I know the same thing won't happen again if you see us together? Or if you see me talking with another woman? Aurora, for instance.” Not that Aurora was likely to speak to him, but Brianna didn't need to know that.

She let out a soft breath, twisting her hands in her lap. “I've promised Colleen—and I'll promise you, as well—that from now on I'll give you the benefit of the doubt before leaping to any conclusions.”

He studied her, keeping his gaze steady. “Trust is vital to a relationship, Brianna. I need you to trust me completely if we're to have any sort of future together.”

She stiffened on the settee, her back straightening. “In my defense, our relationship has never been smooth, Gil. What
with you kissing Colleen in the barn, and then your betrothal to Aurora.”

He bit back a stinging retort about her own betrothal. Such sparring would get them nowhere. Instead, he inclined his head. “True enough.”

One delicate brow arched as though she sensed the reservation behind his reply. “How would you have reacted if you'd caught Henry in my bedroom with his shirt unbuttoned?”

A surge of heat blast through Gil's system at the mental image she'd created. His hands curled into fists on his lap. “I see your point. I doubt I would have taken time to ask questions.”

“Thank you. So can we agree to both work on establishing trust? If a woman comes up to your room again, take her down to the parlor to talk.”

He nodded. “Agreed.” A sudden question dawned. “By the way, why did
you
come up to my room at that hour?”

A furious blush spread across her cheeks. She ducked her head. “I saw Colleen go up to the third floor and . . . I followed her.”

Gil gave a mock scowl. “Spying and eavesdropping are not qualities I admire in a woman.”

Her indignant gaze flew to his. “I did not eavesdrop. I saw her go in and waited at the end of the hall—until I couldn't stand it anymore.”

Despite himself, Gil's lips twitched, picturing her stewing in the hall as he and Colleen talked. But he sobered at the overall implication of her actions. “Seriously, Bree. If you'd only come to the door instead of imagining all sorts of illicit intentions, we could have avoided this whole misunderstanding. If these types of disagreements keep happening, they'll eat away at the foundation of our relationship.”

“I don't want that,” she said in a soft voice as she rose. “I promise I'll do whatever I can to regain your good opinion of me.”

He stood, too, and crossed his arms over his chest to keep from pulling her into a hug. She looked like a lost child, seeking approval for her efforts. He realized with a start that the crux of her insecurity lay with James's constant criticism. Bree never felt good enough for her father. Perhaps she didn't think herself good enough for him.

Before Gil could verbalize any of his revelations, Bree left the room.

He returned to his desk full of ledgers. It seemed at every turn their tangled relationship hit some type of obstacle. Would God ever help them sort it out, or did their destiny lie in different directions?

Gil promised himself he'd spend a great deal more time in prayer in the hopes of finding the answer.