Irish Meadows (33 page)

“That's not fair.” He glared back at her.

“You know what's not fair, Gil? The mixed signals you've been sending me since you got back. Kissing me one minute, then punishing me the next for not trusting you.”

“I haven't been punishing you.”

“You most certainly have. Ever since you gave me that lecture about trust, I've hardly seen you. And don't tell me it's because you were so busy with the books.”

He stood, slack-jawed, staring at her, as though trying to
process her words. Maybe he hadn't even realized what he was doing.

“I'm tired, Gil. Tired of fighting for any scrap of attention from my family and from you. Tired of waiting to see what my father—or you—will decide about my future. So I'm putting my trust in God and doing what's right for me. I hope one day you can understand.”

She turned and stalked out of the barn, half-expecting, half-hoping for him to rush after her. To hug her and tell her how sorry he was. That she was right after all.

But when she reached the house and looked back toward the stables, Gil was nowhere to be seen.

C
OLLEEN
SAT
IN
THE
CUSHIONED
seat of her bedroom window, hugging her knees to her chin, questions plaguing her mind. Where was Rylan now? Stranded somewhere in England? Would he wait for the repairs on the ship or would he try and find another boat? She doubted he'd be able to afford another passage and would be forced to wait until the
Olympic
was ready to sail again. Which meant she probably wouldn't see him for at least another month. Another month to wonder and worry about what he'd decided about his future.

Their
future.

She sighed and opened the letter, hoping that reading it one more time might provide her a clue she'd missed as to his intentions. The fact that he'd planned to come to New York instead of straight to Boston gave her a thread of hope. But on the other hand, even if the news were bad, he'd want to tell her in person.

Dearest Colleen, Being home in Ireland has been like a balm to my soul. I'd forgotten how much I loved the countryside,
the smell of the sea air, and most of all, how much I've missed my family.

Her hand trembled. Was he trying to tell her he'd decided to go back to Ireland once he finished at the seminary?

I'm happy to say my mother's health is much improved. She's recovered from the pneumonia, but the doctors don't want her to risk a harsh sea voyage. I've enjoyed the time I've spent catching up with my brothers and sister. Coming home has given me a much-needed clarity about the future. I need to talk to you when I get back to New York. Which brings me to the main reason for writing. I've booked passage on the RMS Olympic set to sail on September 1st. The tentative date for arrival in New York is September 8th. I plan to come straight to Irish Meadows if it's all right with you and your family. Until then, God bless you all. Love, Rylan.

Her dizzy brain seemed to throb in her skull. She'd analyzed every word in the letter but could come to no real conclusion. She still had no idea what he'd decided about his future. And now she'd have to wait another month to find out.

Lord, thank You for keeping Rylan safe. Forgive
my disappointment and grant me the grace to accept Your
will for the both of us.

A knock on her door broke the silence. She wiped her eyes, smoothed her hair, and tucked the letter under a cushion. “Come in.”

Her mother entered the room and closed the door with a soft click. “I think we need to talk.” Mama's face was serious as she approached the window seat.

With a sigh, Colleen moved to make room beside her. “I suppose we do.” She fiddled with the sash of her dress, trying to find the words to begin.

Mama smoothed the material of her skirt. “Would you care to tell me what's going on between you and Rylan Montgomery? And don't insult my intelligence by telling me it's about the orphanage.”

Colleen picked up one of the pillows and cradled it against her as if to cushion herself from the blow of this revelation. “Neither of us meant for this to happen, Mama . . .” She hesitated, hating that something so beautiful would come out sounding sordid or sinful. “But Rylan and I . . . fell in love.”

Her mother's sharp intake of breath made Colleen wince. What would her parents think of her now?

“How did this happen? He's going to be a priest, for heaven's sake.”

“I don't know. I didn't even like him at first.” Colleen's insides quivered with the magnitude of the situation. “I saw how wonderful Rylan was with the children at St. Rita's. How kind he was to the nuns. And he treated me like someone special. He understands who I truly am on the inside and he . . . he values me.” Her vision blurred as tears spilled over.

Her mother's arms came around her. Colleen leaned into her, weeping on her shoulder as she hadn't done since she was a little girl.

“Don't we value you?” Sorrow laced her mother's soft question.

“You and Daddy do. But not the men who try to get my attention. They always make me feel like a beautiful, empty-headed decoration. Until I started helping at the orphanage, I didn't know what it was like to contribute to something worthwhile. My work there matters, Mama. The children . . . they love me.”

“Of course they love you. You're a warm, wonderful person.” Mama held out a handkerchief. “But getting back to Rylan, what business did he have making a girl fall in love with him when he's promised his life to God?”

“Don't blame Rylan, Mama. It's no one's fault. He . . . he was helping me with my faith. I started reading the Bible and
praying.” She paused. “Rylan helped me make amends for the awful things I've done.”

“So he was acting as your spiritual mentor?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to change that?”

Colleen balled the handkerchief in her hands. “The day I learned Delia had been adopted, Rylan found me crying. He tried to comfort me and . . . we ended up kissing. It just happened.” She savored the moment for a brief second. That one beautiful, terrifying moment when the course of both their lives had changed forever.

Understanding dawned on her mother's face. “That's why he went back to Boston so suddenly.”

Colleen nodded.

“But how did you know he'd gone to Ireland?”

“I convinced him to go. He got a letter saying his mother was too ill to travel over for his ordination. Rylan thought she might be dying, so I told him to go to her because he'd regret it if he didn't.”

Her mother's eyes narrowed. “When did you tell him that?”

She swallowed. “Gil took me to Boston to see Rylan. I had to find out if he'd decided to continue being a priest or not.”

“And? What did he decide?”

Colleen gave a weary sigh. “I still don't know. I wasn't even sure he'd come back once he got to Ireland. But he's coming here now—most likely to tell me his decision in person.” She glanced over at her mother, sad to see a frown marring her complexion. “I'm sorry I've disappointed you and Daddy. I know Daddy wanted me to marry a man of means, not a penniless priest.” A strangled laugh escaped at the irony of the situation.

“So you'll marry Rylan if he decides that's what he wants?”

Colleen's pulse took flight at the idea. “Nothing would make me happier.” She sighed. “But it looks like I'll have to wait quite a while before I find out his plans.”

Her mother rose from the cushioned seat. “I told your father I'll have no more secrets in this family, and I mean it, Colleen. I'm very upset that all this was going on without my knowledge.” Hurt shone around her eyes. “Why wouldn't you confide in me? Did you think I'd condemn you for your feelings?”

Colleen picked at the lace on her handkerchief. “It happened right about the time Daddy got sick. I didn't want to add to your worries.”

“So you tried to handle it all on your own?”

“I eventually told Brianna and Gil. But I wasn't alone.” She smiled. “I had God to lean on.”

Mama held out her hand, and Colleen grasped it like a lifeline. “Now you have all of us, as well.” She pulled Colleen into a tight embrace. “I don't know how I would have gotten through your father's illness without my family. From now on, no matter what Rylan decides, know you have our love and support. I love you very much, sweetie.”

Colleen's heart swelled at the words of love long denied. How often she'd sensed her mother's disapproval, felt slighted over what she'd perceived as her mother's preference for Brianna. But now the truth of her mother's love for her shone through. “I love you, too, Mama.”

Her mother pressed kisses onto her hair, and at last the scars on Colleen's heart began to fully heal.

Mama sniffed and pulled away, a determined expression hardening her features. “Your father can still pull a few strings around this town. Why don't we have him send a telegram and find out exactly what is happening with that ship?”

G
IL
PAUSED
OUTSIDE
THE
PARLOR
to collect his thoughts. He'd done a great deal of soul-searching since the day Brianna had confronted him in the tack room, and reluctantly, he'd decided she'd been right about a few things. Quite possibly Gil
had
been punishing her for not trusting him. Shame burned at the realization that he could be so unforgiving. What kind of Christian example was he living? Not a very good one, it seemed.

She was also right about the mixed messages he'd been sending her. The truth was he should have been man enough to make a decision and fight for her. Instead he'd taken offense at her choosing college over him. He'd worn his foolish pride like a cloak of honor and let the love of his life leave home with only a chilly good-bye.

Faced with Bree's glaring absence in the family pew on Sunday, Gil had come to a moment of clarity. He needed to stop wavering and take action. Step up and make his intentions known to James. He'd told himself he'd been biding his time until
James had fully recovered, when in reality Gil had been afraid to approach James for fear that he would once again deem Gil unworthy.

But all that ended now.

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed the hour. Pushing all negativity aside, Gil took a calming breath and entered the parlor.

James sat reading the evening paper in front of the fireplace. “Ah, Gil. Just the man I want to see.” He folded the paper and laid it aside.

“I need to talk to you, as well.” Too anxious to sit, Gil crossed the room to stand by the hearth. Now that he was face-to-face with James, the words wouldn't come. Gil grabbed a poker and jabbed the logs.

“What's on your mind, son? A business problem?”

Gil dusted off his hands and turned. “No, sir.”

James studied him. “I hope you've not suffered any bad repercussions from breaking your betrothal to Aurora.”

“Not really, except I doubt the Hastings family will speak to me any time soon.” He gave a wan smile, but James did not smile back.

He pinned Gil with a serious look. “I should never have taken advantage of you like that. I'm truly sorry.”

Gil held his gaze. “I shouldn't have let you.”

James shook his head. “Seems we've both come to some interesting realizations the hard way. I know now that I would never risk my health or my family's well-being again for anything.”

Gil nodded, hoping this meant James might be more receptive to his plea. “On that note, sir, I have something to ask you.” He cleared his throat and moved to sit on the chair opposite James. The question needed to be asked eye-to-eye. “I respectfully wish to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage.”

James's gaze remained steady. “I see. And how do you plan to support her?”

Gil's stomach twisted. “Once we get Irish Meadows back on solid ground, I'll look for a piece of land to start my own farm.” He tried not to think of how long that might take.

James considered him for a moment, giving Gil time to sweat.

“Actually, I have a proposition for you, Gilbert, and I hope you'll hear me out before you give me an answer.”

Gil swallowed. At least James hadn't flat out refused him. “Go on.”

“You've done an impressive job here since I've been ill. Brought us back from the brink of insolvency, something I couldn't seem to manage. Now that my health has forced me to curtail my involvement in business matters, I could use a partner in Irish Meadows. There's no one else better suited to run this place. What do you say? Would you be willing to invest your money here and become a full-fledged partner?”

Shock pushed Gil to his feet. He paced the area in front of the hearth, attempting to digest James's offer. Could he give up his dream to join forces with the O'Learys?

James joined him by the mantel. “We have everything here you'd be creating from the ground up. I'd even give you a piece of land when you're ready to build your own house.”

A secret part of Gil yearned to accept the offer. He could stay right here where he'd been so happy as part of the family he loved. It would make Brianna happy, too. How important was making the Whelan name count? “It's a very generous offer . . .” he began, dragging his hand over his jaw. “But it's still your creation, not mine.”

“That's not entirely true. You've had a big hand in helping build up this business over the years. If not for your talent with the horses, we would never have attracted the clientele we have. In fact, to show my good faith, I'd even be willing to add your name to the deed and the title. How does ‘Irish Meadows: O'Leary and Whelan Enterprises' sound?”

A hint of excitement threaded its way through Gil's system.
“Would you be willing to let me have more say in the direction the farm takes? I have some ideas about expanding the breeding side, especially now that racing is on hold indefinitely.”

James eyed him intently. “I'd be open to that. I predict if we survive the next year or two, there's no telling what we can do.”

One more roadblock came to mind. “What about Adam? He already resents my place in the family. If he finds out about this, it may cause an irreparable rift.”

James took a pipe from the stand on the mantel and ran his hand over the stem. A flash of pain passed over his features. “Adam is a complicated issue. My son may be involved in some activities that are . . . not quite legal.” His face became grim. “I went to see him the day I applied for the bank loan. Tried to make him see reason, but only succeeded in alienating him further.”

“All the more reason not to give him another excuse to leave the family.”

James straightened to his full height, a stubborn set to his jaw. “I'm afraid Adam has chosen his path, and I must choose mine. I can't afford to wait for him to come to his senses. This proposal makes good business sense for Irish Meadows and for you. My offer stands.”

Gil nodded, realizing the truth of his words. “That still doesn't address my initial question. Do I have your permission to ask Brianna to marry me?”

James laid a meaty hand on Gil's shoulder. “Ever since your mother died, you've been like a son to me. I'd be honored to make it official and have you as a son-in-law. I'm only sorry it took me this long to realize it.”

Gil fought to subdue the tidal wave of emotion rising in his chest. “I'd be honored as well, sir. And I accept your offer of a partnership.”

“Miss O'Leary, there's a phone call for you.” Sister Veronica's head poked around the door to the classroom where Colleen sat filling the ink bottles.

Colleen looked up and smiled at the youthful nun. “I thought you'd agreed to call me Colleen. After all, we're practically the same age.”

“I'm sorry. I keep forgetting.” Her eyes sparkled with merriment. “You can take the call in Sister Marguerite's office.”

“Thank you.” Colleen grabbed a rag to wipe the excess ink from the lip of the bottle. As she capped the bottle, she couldn't help remembering the day little Delia had knocked over the inkpot. At that time, the stains on Colleen's hands had shamed her—now they represented good honest work.

She left the classroom and walked briskly along the hall to Sister Marguerite's office. Who would be calling her at the orphanage? A tiny shiver of alarm tried to catch hold, but she shook it off. Nothing to worry about. Daddy's health was improving every day. Most likely it was Brianna calling from Aunt Fiona's.

The office was empty, the only movement coming from the curtain at the window, which danced in the afternoon breeze. A jar of wildflowers adorned the desktop, filling the barren room with color and wonderful scents.

Colleen crossed to the wall, picked up the earpiece of the phone, and bent to speak into the other end. “Hello?”

When there was no response, she repeated her greeting twice. Still nothing. She hung up, a frown forming. Perhaps she should call home just in case.

The soft click of the office door barely registered while Colleen waited for the operator. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of someone in the doorway. Goosebumps rose on her neck as she turned to see who had entered. The phone piece fell from her nerveless fingers and clattered against the wall, swinging from the cord.

“Hello, Colleen.” Rylan stood watching her, his cap clutched in front of him.

“Rylan.” Colleen's hand flew to her mouth. Shock rooted her feet to the floor as she struggled to take in the reality of him being here at the orphanage when he was supposed to be halfway around the world.

The trademark grin broke out over his handsome face, creating dimples in each cheek. “You seem surprised to see me.”

Instant tears sprang to her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Without conscious thought, she rounded the desk and threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his neck. She wept against him, breathing in the familiar scent of soap and peppermint, and a hint of smoke from the train. All tangible evidence he was really here—not in England or Ireland.

“Ah, Colleen, how I've missed you,” he murmured into her hair, his lilting accent even more pronounced than before he'd left. His arms tightened around her.

If it weren't for the steady thump of his heart beneath her, Colleen would've thought she was imagining the whole scene.

Rylan handed her a handkerchief from the pocket of his tweed jacket. His brown eyes twinkled. “I always seem to be mopping up your tears, now, don't I?”

She dabbed the cloth to her cheeks. “What are you doing here? Your ship was in a collision and needed repairs.”

A confused frown crossed his features before understanding dawned. “Ah, the
Olympic
. I didn't end up on that ship. I couldn't wait, so I changed my ticket and took a steamer out a week earlier.”

A riot of different emotions coursed through her. “And you didn't think to let us know? Do you know how worried we were when we heard about the accident?”

“I'm so sorry. I only heard about it myself when I reached Boston.”

“Boston?” Her heart plummeted to her feet while her head tried to keep up with the dizzying pace of revelations. So he'd
returned to the seminary after all. And she'd gone and thrown herself at him. Her cheeks burned at the realization of how brazen her reaction had been. Slowly, she disengaged herself from his hold and took several steps back. Her legs wobbled beneath her skirts as the thought of having him so near, only to lose him once again to the church, shook her to the core.

Rylan moved to cup her elbow. “Are you all right, love? You'd better sit down. This has been a shock.”

More like a cataclysmic event. She sank onto the guest chair by the desk, attempting to even out her erratic breathing. She had to get control, to face whatever it was Rylan had come to say. “So you've made your decision, then?”

He nodded. “The best thing I ever did was go home to see my mum. She helped bring clarity to everything in my life.”

Colleen twisted Rylan's handkerchief in her hands. “I imagine your superiors are happy to have you back,” she whispered, hating to sound so pitiful.

Staring at his shoes on the warped wooden floor, she sensed him grow still. A moment later, he crouched in front of her, his warm hands covering hers. “I went to Boston to give them my resignation,” he said quietly. “We all agreed it's for the best.”

“You did?” She focused on Rylan's hands atop hers, not daring to look at him, not daring to hope what this might mean.

“Yes. I've decided my calling is elsewhere. I've accepted a new position.”

Her head buzzed with a thousand nonsensical notions. “I'm happy for you” was all she could manage to get out.

“Don't you want to know what it is?”

“Yes, of course.” Her mouth gave the expected response while her heart erected barriers to protect itself.