A Baby Between Them. Winnie Griggs
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to approve. “Good thinking,” he said, smiling in her direction. “Now, make sure you let Cam here help you pick it out. He knows a thing are two about livestock and wagons.”
Nora nodded dutifully, refusing to look the sheriff’s way.
“That’s high praise coming from you, James,” Cam said. Then he turned back to Nora. “James worked with horses and carriages for years before he moved here to Faith Glen.”
Interesting. She was ashamed to say she hadn’t given much thought to what Agnes and James’s lives had been like before she met them. “It’s reassuring to know I have such talent under my roof.”
But James just waved off their praise. “That’s all in the past now. But I should go out to the barn and make sure it and the barnyard are in good enough shape to house your horse and wagon when they get here.”
The sheriff nodded. “You’re right. Why don’t the two of us go look things over and see if there’s anything that might need immediate attention?”
James pushed himself up from the table. “It’s been a while since anything other than the cow and a few cats sheltered in that old barn. And the fence around the barnyard couldn’t hold in a spindly foal, much less a full-grown horse.”
“Pony,” Nora corrected.
James’s brow went up and he glanced toward Cam.
The sheriff merely shrugged and smiled that infuriating humor-her smile of his.
Rubbing the back of his neck, James turned to face Nora. “Well, if that’s what you think best, I won’t speak against it.” He nodded toward the counter. “There’s fresh milk for Grace. I milked Daisy after we got in from the wedding.”
“Thank you.” Nora moved toward the milk pail. “I’m sure Grace will be fussing for her bottle any minute now.”
James waved Cam forward. “Come along, boy. I’ll show you what I think needs tending to first.”
“Lead the way.”
Much as the sheriff could irritate her with his high-handed ways, at times like this Nora couldn’t help but admire Cameron Long for the way he deferred to the older man. He had a way of helping people without robbing them of their dignity in the process.
James, who walked with a limp he’d acquired before she ever met him, led the way, talking to Cam about spare timbers to brace up the barn’s north wall.
“Cameron is a good man.” Agnes made the pronouncement as if she thought Nora might argue with her.
Instead Nora merely nodded and proceeded to get Grace’s bottle ready. When she finally spoke, she deliberately changed the subject. “It’s a pity you and James couldn’t stay for the reception,” she said over her shoulder.
Grace started fussing and Agnes set down her darning and rocked the cradle with her foot. “When you get to be our age,” the older woman answered, “you don’t spend much time away from home. But the ceremony was lovely and Bridget was beautiful.”
“That she was.”
Agnes gave her a knowing look. “You’re going to miss having her under the same roof with you, aren’t you?”
Nora thought about that a moment. It would certainly be strange not having either of her sisters living in the same house with her. They’d never been all separated like this before. No more shared bedrooms and late-night whispers, no more working side by side at their chores, spinning stories for each other and dreaming together of their futures. She would miss that special closeness. But it wasn’t as if she’d never see them again. Soon they would all be living in the same town and there would be opportunities aplenty to visit with each other.
She smiled at Agnes as she moved back to the table. “I suppose I will a wee bit. But it’s the natural order of things for siblings to grow up and start separate families of their own.” She lifted Grace from the cradle. “And I still have Grace, and you and James, here with me. That’s plenty of family to keep a body from feeling lonely.”
Agnes, her eyes a touch misty, reached over and patted Nora’s hand. “You’re a good girl, you are, Nora Murphy, to be adding James and me to your family. And we feel the same about you and that sweet little lamb you’re holding, as well.”
And right then, Nora knew with certainty that she could not abandon this place, this life, no matter how much Bridget and Maeve tried to convince her otherwise.
Almighty Father, surely You didn’t bring me to this place just to have me leave it. Help me to make the right choices to build a good life here for all of us. But always, according to Your will.
Agnes spoke up, reclaiming Nora’s attention. “Do you mind if I ask you a question of a personal nature?”
Nora smiled. “You know you can ask me anything. What is it?”
“When you and Bridget first arrived here you mentioned that you discovered the deed to this cottage only a couple of months ago, and that none of you girls knew anything about Mr. O’Malley before then. I’ve been waiting ever since then for one of you to ask about him and I confess to being a bit puzzled that you haven’t. Are you not the least bit curious?”
Nora shifted Grace in her arms, giving herself time to think about her response. Truth to tell, she’d been a bit afraid of what might come to light if she learned too much. Laird O’Malley had obviously loved her mother a great deal in his youth, and had continued to love her until he died. But had her mother returned that love? Had she secretly pined for this man who had traveled to America and never returned? And if so, what had she felt for their da?
No, Nora wasn’t at all sure she wanted to know the answer to that question.
But Agnes was waiting for her response. “I already know that he was a generous man who loved my mother very much,” she said carefully. “I’m not sure I need to know more.”
Agnes studied her closely for a moment and Nora tried not to squirm under that discerning gaze. Finally the woman resumed her darning. “I see. Do you mind if I tell you something of him? I think he deserves that much.”
Nora knew it would be churlish to refuse, so she gave in graciously. “Of course.”
“Mr. O’Malley was a good employer, fair and not overly demanding. He loved this place, especially the garden, which he tended to personally.” She smiled reminiscently. “There was even a rumor that he had buried a treasure out there, but of course that’s nonsense. Even so, after he died we would sometimes find an occasional youth sneaking out here and digging around, trying to find it.”
Nora was relieved she hadn’t gone down a more personal road. “So he was happy here.”
“Ah, no, I wouldn’t say happy.” Agnes continued to focus on her stitches. “There was a sadness about him, a sort of lost emptiness that seemed to weigh him down. Many’s a day he would spend walking along the beach and staring out over the ocean as if looking for a ship that never came.”
Had he been yearning for her mother all that time? Better not to dwell on that. “Did he have many friends here?”
“He kept to himself for the most part. He wasn’t shunned or outcast, mind you, he just never made much of an effort to get close to anyone, more’s the pity.”
Nora’s curiosity got the better of her. “Did he ever speak of his life back in Ireland?”
“Not to me or James. But then, he was a very private person and never spoke about much of anything.” Agnes sighed. “I always sensed the man had a good heart—he never uttered a harsh word in my hearing and he could be generous if he became aware of a need. It’s such a sadness that he spent so much time dwelling on his past rather than enjoying his present.”
She knotted and snipped her thread, then began putting away her sewing things. “Anyway, in his own way,