Never Broken (5 page)

Sara sighed, then sat down. “I suppose you’ll nag me until I do.”

“Aye. That I will.”

She took another bite of her sandwich as Rory rang for a fresh pot of tea. When the servant left, Sara smiled.

“Now that’s what I like to see,” he said. “A bonny smile is a balm to the soul. What are you thinkin’ about that has you in better spirits?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“You may have missed your calling.”

“Which would be?”

“Instead of law you should have pursued medicine. You would make a wonderful physician.”

Rory grinned. “Interesting you would say that. Can you keep a secret?”

Sara leaned forward, her interest obviously piqued. “Aye.”

He chuckled at her slip back into country cant as Lady Jane referred to the Irish tongue. “I always wanted to be a doctor. I even took a couple of medical courses at University.”

Sara blinked several times. “Why on earth is that a secret? If you have a desire to be a physician, then you should do it.”

Rory shook his head. “Uncle Edwin is set on me becoming a solicitor. He feels I have more of a future in law.”

“But if it’s not something you want to do…”

“It doesn’t matter what I want to do. What matters is that I choose a career that will keep me financially secure. Law is one of those professions. Medicine isn’t.”

“That makes little sense.” Sara folded her arms across her chest. “You’d forgo your passion for the sake of money?”

“Money brings security, lass.”

Her face fell. “Yes, it does.” She glanced at the fire, her few moments of jollity gone. “But it can’t solve everything, can it?”

He didn’t answer.

After Sara had eaten a sufficient amount of supper to satisfy Rory, she retired for the night, leaving him to his thoughts. He stretched out his long legs in front of him and slumped in the chair, the soft crackle of the burning flames the only sound in the room.

As he had so often in the past months, he thought of Shannon, the beautiful woman he’d met in the garden at William’s wedding party. He’d wondered about her, worried about her, even prayed for her. He had yet to see her here at the manor, which gave him hope that she was not suffering as many Irish were. Perhaps she had left the country, as others had done. While he wanted her safe and content, the thought of her gone filled him with regret. He should have sought her out, should have at least said goodbye. But he’d been in such a hurry to leave for Dublin, to put as many miles between him and his family as possible. As he thought about it now, his anger seemed foolish and selfish.

He stood and moved to the window. A throng of people huddled near the gate, using each other’s body heat to keep warm. Per Edwin’s orders, Brigit instructed one of the footmen to build a fire nearby and distribute as many blankets as the Gormleys could spare.

As he watched the tenants settle in for the night, he hoped with all his heart that wherever Shannon Cahill was, she was warm, well fed, and happy.

Ballyclough,

December 1845

Shannon sat next to the cot
in the corner of the small hut where her mother lay, weak from lack of food and ill with the ague she’d contracted weeks before. She stroked Ma’s sunken cheek and held her frail hand.

Nearby, Ainslee and their father argued. Shannon remained silent, leaving her sister to fight their father alone. She brushed away strands of Ma’s dark brown hair from her fevered brow.

Ainslee crossed her arms as tears flowed down her cheeks. “Da, we will not be leavin’! You cannot make us!”

“Aye, daughter, I can. There is no future here for you and Shannon. No future for any of the Cahills.”

He’d broken the news to them after their sparse supper. They had shared one barely-full-grown pratie between them, and for the past two weeks, had been forced to eat the seed potatoes for next year’s crop. Now her father wanted them to leave—leave home—leave Ballyclough—leave Ireland. Shannon was as upset as Ainslee, but she knew her father was right.

“How can you send us away?” Ainslee knelt before him. “Don’t… don’t you love us anymore?”

From the corner of the room, Shannon watched Da’s gaze fall to his hands—hands as shaky as the wobbly table upon which they rested. “Of course your Ma and I love you. ‘Tis why we’re doin’ this. You and Shannon are strong.” His eyes turned toward her—eyes full of sorrow. “You will both survive.”

Shannon’s heart broke at the despair and pain on her father’s craggy face. Gone was his ready smile, the proud lift of his chin, the power of his larger-than-life personality. All that remained was a resigned shell of a man.

She left her mother’s side and edged her way to the man she had always looked up to. He needed comforting as much as Ma. “Things will be gettin’ better, Da.” She gripped his hand, feeling the rough patches of skin on his palm and fingers. It was a hand that had spent a lifetime scraping a living out of the stubborn Irish soil. She had to encourage him somehow.

“Aye,” Ainslee chimed in. “Ma will be on the mend, I know she will. And next year our crop—”

“There is no crop! There is no next year!” He gripped Ainslee’s shoulders, then quickly released them and lowered his voice. “Daughters, please. Don’t be makin’ this harder than it already is.”

Shannon knew that what he said was true. Even if the blight ended, there was nothing left to plant. “But Da, why must we go alone? As soon as Ma is better, we can start over together, the four of us, some place better.”

He shook his head. “Nay, your Ma and I are not destined to travel, but you and Ainslee have youth on your side. The good Lord has provided a way for you to escape the plight that befalls us.”

“But how? Da, we would have nothing but the clothes on our back. With no financial means, mayhaps ’tis better we stay.”

He pulled an old handkerchief from his pocket, the faded fabric formed into a pouch. He unfastened the knot and opened it. “For the two of you. I was goin’ to use it to pay the rent.” He looked away. “Take it.” He thrust it toward them. “Take it and go to America. I’ve heard ’tis the land of promise.”

A tear trickled down Shannon’s cheek. She looked at her parents. Ma was not destined long for this world, and Pa looked emasculated, weakening every day. She and her sister would soon be alone in this world whether they went or stayed. “But who will care for you if we leave now?”

“Father O’Reilly will check on us, and the villagers that stay will be helpin’ each other as much as we can.”

She hesitated then nodded as she took the pouch from Da.

“But I want to stay here, with you and Ma. Ireland is my home. Our home!” Ainslee would not give up.

Shannon touched her twin’s arm, trying to silence her. “Sister, enough.”

Ainslee shook Shannon’s hand away, her eyes still pleading with their father. “I don’t have to go to the convent. Shannon and I can take care of the land. We can farm the plot, pay the rent. We’ll take care of you both. Please, don’t make us leave.”

“’Twill be better for you both,” Da said. “You’ll come to see that.”

“We could go to the Gormleys. They’ve been givin’ out food every day and evenin’,” she said. Ainslee glanced at Shannon. “You’ve met them. They are nice people, are they not?”

Shannon sucked in a deep breath. She hadn’t talked about the Gormleys since she’d returned from working for them over a year ago. How she could still remember every detail about Rory O’Leary, she didn’t know. But he was as clear to her now as he had been as they sat in Lord Gormley’s garden. The kind tone of his voice. The soft, feathery touch of his fingers when they had brushed across her face. The deep blue of his eyes. Often she had dreamed of meeting him again, about drowning in the depths of his gaze and feeling the taste of his lips on hers. Although she knew he was in Dublin, she had prayed he would find a reason to come home. She’d even wondered if he had returned to the manor to help his family take care of their tenants. She wouldn’t have him seeing her like this—hungry, lost, and filled with despair. She would have waited for better times because, until recently, she had been sure they would come.

Now she knew they wouldn’t. Just as she knew going to America meant she’d never see Rory again.

“Nay.” Da grimaced. “I’ll not have my daughters beggin’ anyone for what I should be providin’.”

“But…”

“Ainslee. Shannon.”

The girls turned at the sound of Ma’s small voice. “Come here, my daughters.”

They went to their mother and knelt at her feet. Laying her head in Siobhan Cahill’s lap, Ainslee couldn’t stem the fresh flood of tears.

Ma laid a shaky hand on each daughter’s shoulder. “Ainslee, you always were the stubborn one. Tenderhearted and kind, but stubborn, nevertheless. But now’s not the time to be diggin’ in your heels.” She slid her hand underneath Ainslee’s chin and lifted it from her lap. “Can’t you see how heartbroken your Da is? ’Tis killin’ him to let ye both go, but it must be done.”

Ma turned her eyes to Shannon. “And you, my bonny girl, you are my courageous and adventurous one. I’ll be expectin’ you to look after your sister.”

“Ma, please, you must rest. We can talk about this later. Tomorrow, or next week—”

“Nay, my sweet one. ‘Tis settled now. It has to be.”

Shannon met her twin’s sorrowful gaze. Their mother’s words weren’t lost on either of them. They both knew she had little time left.

“’Tis not fair,” Ainslee whispered. “’Tis not fair that we should suffer like this.”

“You and Shannon will forge new lives in a new country, and God will be with ye every step of the way. He has plans for ye both, ye know that. Go and see what our God has in store for your futures.”

“But…” Ainslee’s words faded as her mother lay back down, her eyelids fluttering closed. Shannon gave Ainslee a stern look before laying a worn wool coverlet over their mother’s frail body.

Crossing the small room, she went to her father. “Thank you, Da. Thank you and Ma for what you are doing for Ainslee and me.” She worked to keep her voice steady though her world, as she knew it, was crashing. “When are we leavin’?”

Their father stood, apparently gaining strength from Shannon’s compliance. “As soon as ye are able. Ye will have to walk to Cork. ’Tis a far journey, but there are many others who are leavin’, so you won’t be alone. From Cork, you’ll book passage and cross the ocean to America.”

Heaviness settled in Shannon’s heart. Obviously her parents had thought this through. But how could she leave them and her homeland? She knew if she set foot on American soil, she would never see Ireland again.

“We will leave at first light,” Shannon said firmly. She turned to her twin. “Right?” Shannon narrowed her gaze at Ainslee.

“Aye,” Ainslee replied through gritted teeth. “We’ll leave then.”

Their father visibly relaxed. He held out his once-burly arms, now thin from lack of nourishment, to his daughters. She and Ainslee rushed to him. Shannon leaned against her father’s ratty wool jacket, breathing in the familiar scents of peat smoke and dried earth, smells she would forever associate with him.

His embrace tightened around them like a vise. “I will miss ye both so much. And know this, my daughters. Your Ma and I will be prayin’ for you every day. You’ll never be far from our hearts.”

“Nor ours,” Shannon said, clinging to her father.

Tomorrow, her life would change forever. She would leave her beloved Ireland, and accept that other than in her dreams, she had no future with Rory O’Leary.

The next morning Shannon
and Ainslee followed the streaming line of emigrants trailing out of Ballyclough and surrounding villages. They were all heading toward the harbor and, hopefully, a more prosperous future. But while the road to the city of Cork and its seaport was paved with guarded expectation, it was also littered with death and despair. Many who started for Cork would never make it.

As Shannon trudged along, her eyes and throat burned with tears she couldn’t shed. She had to be strong, had to keep prodding Ainslee along. That morning her sister had renewed her efforts to disobey their parents’ wishes. After Shannon mentally and physically drug Ainslee from home, she endured her sister’s stony silence for several hours as they trod down the road.

“Will ye ever be speakin’ to me again, Lee?” she finally asked, weary of the wall of silence between them.

“Aye,” Ainslee replied, not looking at her. “But ’twill be a while before I do.”

Shannon sighed. She didn’t want to go to America any more than Ainslee, but she understood the sacrifice her mother and father made for them. But she didn’t understand why Ainslee couldn’t accept the reality of it. Her insistence on defying their wishes was bewildering.

“Ye had no right, Shannon, no right at all to make this decision for me.” Ainslee’s words held a bitter edge to them.

“Aye, Lee, I did, for ye were bein’ so pigheaded.” Shannon matched the tone of her voice to her sister’s. “Why are ye resistin’ so?”

“Why are ye so eager to go?”

“’Tis not eagerness. ’Tis because Ma and Da are right. Ye know how it is in the village and across all of Ireland. There’s nothin’ else we can do.”

“We can stay here and take care of Ma.”

Shannon swallowed, not wanting to admit the truth. But what purpose was served denying it? “There’s naught to be done for her, Lee.” Tears pricked her eyes. “You and I both know that.”

“You’re givin’ up too quickly. Just like Da.”

Shannon had heard all she wanted to hear from her sister. “Nay, for unlike you, we are acceptin’ the truth of our situation. Something you should do, instead of actin’ selfish.”

“I don’t understand how stayin’ in Ballyclough is selfish,” Ainslee said. “We can go to m’lord’s manor. They have food.”

“Da’s already said his piece on that. We will not shame him.”

“Nay,” she said, her bitterness slicing the cold air. “We will only abandon him.”

Shannon grabbed Ainslee’s arm and turned her until the two faced each other. “It would be selfish for us to stay. What little money Da can earn, he can now use to help the two of them survive.”

Ainslee’s eyes widened, and though Shannon thought her sister could not possibly have any tears left, two large tears rolled down her cheek.

“I… I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

Shannon pulled her sister close. “We need to think with our heads right now, rather than with our hearts.”

Her sister sniffed and lifted her chin several inches. “I’ll try, Shannon. I’ll try.”

“Good. Now let’s keep moving.” The road in front of her blurred. She had broken dreams to mourn as well. Rory. She must stay strong, but with each step away from Ballyclough, she was losing the battle.