Sons of an Ancient Glory (32 page)

Quinn O'Shea flushed but remained silent.

Sara watched her. “And…are you happy here at the Shelter, Quinn?”

Something sparked in the magnificent eyes. The intensity of the girl's stare belied her mumbled reply.
“Happy
, ma'am?” Her expression hinted that Sara must be slightly mad to ask such a thing.

There was a long silence. Uncomfortable beneath that defiant stare, Sara could not quite think what to say.

Ethelda Crane broke in. “If you're still feeling ill, Miss O'Shea,” she said, her tone clearly indicating she didn't believe the girl, “I would suggest that you go on to the infirmary.”

The girl's eyes clung to Sara for another instant before she finally turned away and walked slowly down the hall toward the back of the building.

As she watched her go, the slender back rigidly straight in the shapeless brown dress, Sara felt a sudden wave of compassion—and a kind of respect—sweep over her. She found herself unduly curious about Quinn O'Shea. Why had she stayed here so long? What was her story?

Inexplicably, she shivered. No doubt every woman and child in this bleak place had a story. Sara could not help but wonder how many of those stories had been woven from the fabric of broken dreams or tragedy.

Something told her that Quinn O'Shea's story had been formed of both.

I close the book;
But the past slides out of its leaves to haunt me
And it seems wherever I look,
Phantoms of irreclaimable happiness taunt me.

C. D
AY
-L
EWIS
(1904-1972)

Q
uinn raged at herself all the way down the hall.
Why
, when she had finally found a chance to speak out—why had she held her silence?

Because she had lost her nerve, that's why.…

If only there had not been so many of them. Perhaps if the lady with the kind eyes and gentle voice had been alone…and if Miss Crane had not hovered so…

She wanted to strike out at herself. She wanted to weep. Her one opportunity, and she had spoiled it! And who could say when, if ever, she might have another chance.

It was just that she had been overwhelmed by them all, with their fine hats and fancy suits—and herself standing there on exhibition, in the hideous brown dress, looking like an inmate from a madhouse.
And there had been the unmistakable warning in Ethelda Crane's stare.…

Seeing the closed door of the infirmary straight ahead, Quinn hesitated, then went on. She would have to put in an appearance after her ridiculous tale about being ill. Miss Crane had not believed her for a moment, of course—the woman was the devil to fool. Still, it was best to go on with the act, though she knew that things would only go harder for her now.

She stopped just before she reached the door. Tears of self-disgust and anger scalded her eyes, and she brushed them away with an angry swipe.

Quinn wished she had never come to this wretched place. She wished that she had never separated from Bobby Dempsey, and—

Suddenly she stopped.
Bobby!
She had been so caught up in her own misery that she had nearly forgotten about Bobby. Dear, gentle Bobby. He would be concerned about her, sure, would no doubt be looking for her. By now he would have a job on the docks and a bit of money. Any day now, he might find her again and help her out of this
prison of Christian charity.

For a moment, she found herself on the verge of praying—for Bobby, for herself, for escape. A stab of unspeakable pain knifed through her as she realized how much she missed the comfort and the peace her childhood prayers had once provided.

The pain sharpened even more as she reminded herself that any prayer she might dare to voice these days would be no more than an empty echo, bouncing off the walls of her heart. The door to heaven had been closed to her for a long time now.

Evan turned and started up the walk toward home, surprised to see no sign of light from inside. Instead of the warm, cozy glow he had come to expect at day's end, he found the house dark. Instead of Nora standing in the doorway with a welcoming smile, he was greeted only by a closed door.

Inside the house, a vague uneasiness began to spread over him, especially when he called her name and received no reply. He glanced into the parlor first, then started toward the kitchen.

It was too early for Daniel to be home, of course. He seldom left the doctor's office before seven. But where was everyone else?

Definitely apprehensive by now, he hurried down the dark hallway. There was no one in the kitchen.

“Nora?” He stopped just inside the door of their bedroom, surprised to see her lying on the bed, apparently sound asleep. In a chair between the bed and the crib sat Johanna, as if keeping watch. The only light in the room came from the window, where the last faint glow of evening was giving way to encroaching darkness.

Evan glanced toward the crib, where the baby lay, wide awake, making small sounds of contentment.

Johanna's eyes filled with relief at the sight of him. Immediately, she put a finger to her lips, as if to caution him that Nora was sleeping.

Frowning, he went and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking Nora's hand. She stirred a little, then turned onto her back.

Her eyes opened, and for a moment she seemed confused. “Evan?” Her hand went to her throat. “Why are you—” She broke off, glancing over at the baby and Johanna. “What time is it?”

Evan withdrew his hand from hers, fished in his vest pocket, and snapped open his watch. “N-nearly six.” He bent to kiss her, and when he drew back he thought her eyes looked slightly swollen. “Nora? Are you all right?”

“Six?”
Tossing the quilt off her legs, she scrambled up from the bed. Evan saw her sway on her feet and rose to steady her. “Nora! What is it? Are you ill?”

“I'm not,” she insisted, shaking her head. “I just got up too quickly, is all. I can't think what came over me, to sleep so long, and in the middle of the day!”

“You were up with Teddy late in the n-night,” Evan reminded her. “I'm glad you m-managed a rest.” Still holding on to her arm, he continued to study her. “Are you quite certain you're all right?”

She nodded, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “You didn't know you married such a slugabed, I'm sure.” Starting for the crib, she paused long enough to touch Johanna's hair. “And weren't you good, to watch over Teddy while I slept,
alannah.”

Taking up the baby, she shot Evan a look of dismay. “I haven't even started the supper yet! Oh, Evan, I'm so sorry, and you home from working all day—”

“Nora,
will
you stop fussing!” Going to take the baby from her, he was struck by how exhausted she appeared, even though she had just awakened. Not for the first time, he wished they could afford some extra domestic help for her, at least until Teddy was older. She was simply not regaining her strength as she should.

“I'm sure we'll be n-none the worse for a late meal now and then,” he said firmly, adding, “You go along and get things started. I'll entertain Teddy.”

Still she hesitated. “He needs changing…”

“Yes, I can see that,” Evan said dryly, still smiling. “Johanna can help m-me.”

He recognized the brief look of uncertainty that passed over Nora's features as she left the room. Johanna's continued resistance to handling the baby was a concern and a disappointment to them both. Although the girl was as eager as ever to help Nora with anything else about the house, she stopped short at direct contact with little Teddy. She would watch over him in his crib, would stand nearby and assist with changing or dressing, but she simply refused to pick him up or handle him in any way.

It was obvious that she was determined not to form any sort of real attachment to the newest member of the household. Yet, Evan had seen the longing in her face when she thought no one was looking—an unmistakable desire to hold the baby.

He thought he understood, and it grieved him no end. Johanna was still blaming herself for Little Tom's death. The entire family had done their utmost to convince the girl she was not at fault, that she must not hold herself responsible for what had been, in fact, a tragic accident.

But Johanna had borne the responsibility of looking after her little brother for so long that Evan suspected she would have held herself accountable, whatever the circumstances of Tom's death had been. Months had passed, but the girl was obviously still grieving for her baby brother, still condemning herself for his death.

Her attitude toward Teddy as much as confirmed it. Evan wondered if this…this
distancing
of herself from the baby might not be her way, at least for now, of dealing with her feelings of loss and guilt.

It struck him that she might also be
afraid
to take care of Teddy. Perhaps she feared another accident, in which, at least to her way of reasoning, she would again be to blame. The girl had lost her entire family, after all. Wasn't it understandable that she might temporarily withdraw from a close relationship with another child, perhaps as a way of protecting herself from still even loss?

Even Daniel, to whom Johanna had always been able to turn when confused or troubled, no longer seemed able to comfort her. It was as if she had closed the door on herself and refused to open it to anyone.

He was keenly aware of Johanna's quiet presence beside him as he clumsily attempted to change the baby with his one hand. She moved to help, but carefully avoided Teddy's wide-eyed scrutiny.

For a moment, a wave of pity for the girl almost overwhelmed Evan. She was little more than a child herself, twelve years old, living in a silent world where grief and guilt could grow unchecked. He could not imagine the crushing pain in her troubled heart, could not help but wonder how long it might be before that young heart broke beneath the enormous burden she was trying to carry alone.

Johanna tried not to look directly at Teddy as she helped Uncle Evan with the changing. Even though the baby seemed intent on staring up at her and smiling, she pretended not to notice. And when her hands ached to reach for him and bring him close against her heart, she simply clenched them that much tighter.

She didn't understand the rush of warmth that coursed through her every time the baby waved his tiny fists in her direction, and she did her utmost to ignore it. But sometimes…like now…when he lay staring up at her in seeming fascination, the desire to pick him up was almost more than she could bear.