Paradise Falls

“Ruth Ryan Langan tells a story that’s as warm as a quilt on a snowy evening and tender as love’s first kiss.
Paradise Falls
is a book that touches the heart and comforts the soul.”

—Nora Roberts

“Characters so incredibly human the reader will expect them to come over for tea.”

—
Affaire de Coeur

“Nicely detailed descriptions, a straightforward plot, and sympathetic, beautifully depicted characters add up to a powerful, rewarding historical. Langan is a popular writer of heartwarming, emotionally involving romances.”

—Library Journal

Berkley Sensation edition – March 2004

Copyright 2004 by Ruth Ryan Langan

Digital Publication 2013 by Ruth Ryan Langan

Cover by
Tammy Seidick Design

Digital Design by
A Thirsty Mind

All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

For Nora,

the sister of my heart

And for Tom, my heart and soul

Ruth Ryan Langan

Romance Classics

Now Available as EBooks:

Heart's Delight

Paradise Falls

Ashes of Dreams

Duchess of Fifth Avenue

Captive of Desire

Passage West

Nevada Nights

September’s Dream

The Heart’s Secret

Destiny’s Daughter

Visit Ruth's website at
www.RyanLangan.com
for more information and to purchase.

The Atlantic Ocean—1879

“A
m I dead then?” Bridget Downey opened her eyes and struggled to make out the figure of her husband, Daniel, kneeling beside her.

“You’re alive, love.”

“Fiona?”

Daniel looked down at the little girl beside him, the mirror image of her mother. Hair dark and curly, and skin so fair she could have been made of spun glass. Laughing eyes as blue as the sky over Galway. She was the love of his life. “Fiona’s fine.”

The little girl snuggled closer to her father. Throughout the long voyage from their home in Ireland she had clung to him, watching as he’d lovingly tended her mother.

“The storm?” Bridget’s eyes widened in fear.

“It’s gone now. We made it through, love.” Such simple words to describe the terror he’d felt during the storm that had raged for three days and nights, tossing the ship about like a child’s toy, leaving almost everyone aboard the
Molly B
out of Dublin desperately ill.

While other passengers had fled the stench of sickness and death to seek the fresh air topside, Daniel had remained beside his Bridget, cleaning her, spooning what little food he could manage to beg, barter, or steal to keep her alive. When he wasn’t tending his wife, he was seeing to the needs of his beloved Fiona.

To pass the long, desperate hours he’d regaled the child with tales of his own childhood in Galway, and of his hopes and dreams for the future. Of his determination to leave the only life he and Bridget had ever known, in order to carve out a better life for their daughter in this strange new world.

“Your mother fears this new land, thinking they’re barbarians because of their long Civil War. But they’ve put that behind them now. President Rutherford B. Hayes has brought dignity and honesty to the government.” Daniel grew somber. “You must remember his name, lass. To be a good citizen, you must know about the ones who lead your country. Education is the soul’s food, Fiona. In Ireland, all we could ever hope for would be scraps. But in America, it will be a banquet. And I intend that we will eat our fill of it. Here in this great land, instead of marrying to secure your future, you can do whatever you choose with your life.”

“Shouldn’t I ever marry, Da?”

His eyes crinkled with humor. “I hope you will one day. But only if it’s for the right reason.”

“What’s the right reason, Da?”

“Love. That’s the only reason to bind yourself to another for a lifetime, Fiona.” He glanced over at his wife, and his eyes softened.

“But how will I know, Da?”

He took her hands in his. “You’ll know, though it won’t be easy. It isn’t just the way a man looks, although that may be what first attracts you. Nor will it matter what he does. Whether a man works with his hands, or has the greatest mind in the universe, it’s what’s in his heart that matters. Never waste your love. remember that, child. Give your heart to someone whose own heart is worthy.”

Fiona knew, from her father’s solemn demeanor, that he was telling her something of great importance. And because it mattered so much to please him, she listened intently and nodded in agreement. “I’ll remember, Da.”

From the upper deck a great roar went up that seemed to send a shudder rippling through the entire ship.

Bridget cringed. “What’s happened now?”

“We’ll see.” Daniel removed his damp coat and wrapped it around his shivering wife before lifting her into his arms. “Take hold of my belt, Fiona, so we don’t get separated.”

The little girl did as he commanded, and the three of them struggled up the slippery steps, making their way cautiously to the ship’s rail. After the fetid air below, the cold, bracing wind was a shock to the system. The sun had already set, leaving the sky an inky canvas above their heads.

The ship slowed, then stopped, and the anchor was lowered as they entered the harbor.

They stared in fascination at the strange sights that assaulted their senses. Lights, so many of them—from ships at anchor, from lanterns in carriages and pony carts racing along the docks, fetching passengers and cargo in a frenzy of activity. People shouting in a dozen different languages. Men cursing. Dock workers milling about, all with a purpose.

“Look, Bridget, Fiona.” Daniel’s voice was hushed, as though they were in a great cathedral. “We’ve reached New York harbor.”

The little girl looked up at her father, tugging on his leg. “Is this America, Da?”

“It is. And so much more, Fiona. This is why we left home and family and risked everything. I knew the crossing would cause us suffering, and for that I’m truly sorry. But this...” He lifted his little daughter up, so that both his women were in his arms, staring at the dizzying blur before them. “This was worth every painful moment. For that is all behind us now. What you see here is our future.”

Bennett, Massachusetts – 1890

“I
made it. I made it.” A freckled youth of eighteen jostled his way through the crush of eager young students gathered around the list that had been nailed to the door of Bennett College. Each summer, after rigorous examinations in history, geometry, and mathematics, the list of students accepted for entrance to the small New England college was posted on the door of the chapel.

Fiona Downey took an elbow to her ribs and was shoved to one side. Though she was as eager as the others to learn her fate, she resisted the urge to push her way to the front. It wouldn’t do for the daughter of a respected Bennett professor to behave in an unruly fashion.

A respected Bennett professor.
How grand that sounded. Her father had begun life in America as a gardener to a wealthy family in Boston. Fiona and her mother had lived with him in a shed on the grounds of a fine, big home with rolling lawns and an army of servants. Bridget had helped the cook in the big house until her health had begun to fail her. When Daniel found work on the grounds of Bennett College, he knew he was one step closer to his goal. He’d studied early in the morning and late into the night and had taken every test required, until at last he’d been accepted as a teacher.

For Daniel, it had been the culmination of a lifetime dream. At last, he and his family would live the good life he’d envisioned when he’d left his childhood home to seek a better life.

And now, hopefully, it would be Fiona’s turn. She stood, feeling more than a little breathless, and waited for the crowd to thin.

“What about me?” The freckled youth’s friend struggled to make it to the front of the crowd but was quickly shoved aside by a taller student.

“I didn’t see your name.” A moment later, he was greeted with a dazzling smile. “You’re in, Ethan.”

“You’re sure?” The two ignored the jostling as they studied their names on the precious list. With matching grins they raced off to share the news with family and friends.

When at last the others drifted away Fiona hurried up to scan each name until she came to her own.

She closed her eyes a moment, and fought the sting of tears. “I did it.” She hugged her arms about her chest and took in several deep breaths. “Oh, Da, you’ll be so proud.”

With a laugh of pure delight she turned and began racing across the campus, her mind awhirl. Within a few weeks she would be living her dream, preparing herself for a life as a college student.

Not many women achieved such a goal, but Fiona had never doubted she would do it. She’d had a rare opportunity that few girls her age ever experienced. With her father a history professor at Bennett, and her mother devoted to reading aloud from the classics, it was inevitable that Fiona’s mind had been filled with knowledge beyond her tender age.

Perhaps it had been the crushing poverty her parents had experienced in their homeland, or perhaps they were simply driven to succeed. Whatever the reason, they had instilled in Fiona a need to excel in everything she pursued.

She glanced skyward. Had the sun always been this bright? Or was it because of her happy news? That had her looking around, as though to store up as much of this special day as possible, so that she would never forget it. The sky was palest blue, with just a few high, puffy clouds on the horizon. The hollyhocks that climbed to the roof of the Johnson cottage seemed even more colorful as they danced on the slight breeze. Up ahead a horse and cart slowed while the driver tipped his hat to a lady with a basket on her arm. Their voices drifted toward her, and Fiona recognized the trill of Mrs. O’Connell’s laughter.

Fiona’s heart was nearly filled to bursting as she moved along the tree-shaded street lined with neat little houses owned by the college. The smallest ones were offered to the newer professors, with the larger, grander houses given to those who had been teaching the longest. The one Fiona shared with her parents was a tiny white cottage with shutters painted soft butter-yellow. A picket fence groaned under the weight of climbing roses, which her mother lovingly tended each summer. Fiona inhaled their perfume as she sailed up the steps of the porch.

“Mum. Da.” The door slammed at her back. “Oh, you’re going to be so happy when I tell you...” Her voice trailed off when she caught sight of her mother’s tear-stained face. “What is it, Mum? What’s happened?”

Instead of a reply, her mother collapsed into a chair and buried her face in her handkerchief. A bearded man stepped from her parents’ bedroom, unrolling his sleeves.

Fiona recognized Dr. Hadly. His grave manner had her heart skipping several beats. “What’s happened to Da? Has he been hurt?”

The doctor shook his head and placed a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Fiona. Your father’s gone.”

“Gone?” She shrank from his touch. “What are you saying?”

The old man sighed. Of all the things he was called upon to do, this was always the hardest. Especially when the loved ones were given no warning. “It was his heart, Fiona.” He glanced at Bridget Downey, who sat quietly weeping. “You’re going to have to be strong now for your mother.”

“No!” Fiona started past him, determined to see for herself. “You’re wrong, Doctor. Da isn’t dead. He can’t be. He can’t.”

“Child.” The doctor was about to stop her until he saw her eyes—a little too bright. And the way she was holding herself, so rigid and straight, as though afraid to bend even an inch, for fear of snapping. He stepped away from the closed door and watched in quiet resignation as Fiona shoved it open and stepped inside.

“Da.” She stared at the figure on the bed. He was dressed, as always, in a proper dark suit. Despite the expense, he owned two of them, so that one would always be clean and perfectly pressed. His tie had been loosened, the neck of his crisp white shirt unbuttoned, the only sign of anything out of the ordinary.

Fiona had always loved the way her father looked. A bit stern, perhaps, to his students, but the twinkle in his blue eyes always gave away his sense of humor. Beneath his professor’s demeanor lurked the heart of a sweet, gentle tease.

She loved the way his slightly graying hair was always perfectly combed. Seeing it mussed, she reached out and smoothed it away from his forehead. Her hand paused in midair. Had his eyelids flickered just a bit?

Of course. The doctor was wrong, as she’d suspected.

She dropped down onto the edge of the bed and caught her father’s hands in hers. There was still some warmth there, though they seemed heavy to the touch. She’d always loved Da’s hands. So big and yet so gentle. The way they squeezed her shoulder when he was pleased with something she’d done. The way he tugged on a lock of her hair when he was teasing her about something silly.