Page 122 of Valley of Dreams

“We’re family,” she said to her little girl. “And I have you with me every day. That’s reason and plenty to be joyful.”

Eliza was determined to keep her spirits up. They walked hand in hand into the kitchen. It wasn’t empty.

Patrick sat at the work table, a stub of a pencil in his hand as he scratched out some sort of note.

“Pa-ck!” Lydia’s latest—admittedly odd—version of his name pulled his attention away from his writing.

The look of utter adoration on his face melted Eliza’s heart. “Mo stóirín!” He moved quickly around the table and held his arms open as Lydia rushed into his waiting embrace. “I’ve missed you,mo chailín beag.”

That last was an Irish phrase Eliza hadn’t heard before. But there was no mistaking his tone. Patrick loved her little girl. Lydia leaned her head against him and scratched her fingers in his beard.

“It’s longer, isn’t it? I’ve not trimmed it since I left.”

Lydia just smiled at him, and he, kneeling on the ground, held her. He looked up and met Eliza’s eyes.

“She’s missed you,” Eliza said.

“Hasshe?”

A little flip of the heart delayed her response a moment. “She has. And she has hoped that you spent some time with your brothers and father while you were away. And she hopes your connection to them has deepened.”

“For a wee girl who’s not spoken more than two words at once in all the months I’ve known her, she’s had a lot to say while I was away.”

Heat touched Eliza’s cheeks. Was he laughing at her?

She clung to what dignity she could and moved to the stove. The family would want their dinner soon enough.

“Eliza?”

“Did you have a good journey?” She tried to sound casual.

He slipped up next to her. “Oh, ’twas a terrible thing I’ve endured. Suffering. Torture. I’ve not eaten in two weeks. Have pity on me, dearie. I’m begging you.”

His teasing lifted her spirits. “I suppose I can let you stay, but only if you tell me what is in that note you were writing.”

Patrick picked up Lydia, who was tugging at the leg of his trousers. “I didn’t want to disrupt your work, so I was leaving a note explaining that your two coats and Lydia’s shoes are on your bed.”

Her excitement was tempered by nerves. “Did they come terribly dear?”

He shook his head. “In fact, the money you sent me with is on your bed as well.”

“You didn’t pay for them yourself, did you?” He hadn’t money enough for such things.

“I didn’t. A man who lives near the depot was desperate to finish up his new barn before winter arrives. I spent the couple of days we were all there working on it with him in exchange for a very warm woolen lady’s coat, an equally warm little girl’s coat, and a pair of child’s shoes.”

“You might have been paid for that labor, Patrick. I know you haven’t had work. You need the money.”

He set his unoccupied arm around her waist and pulled her up to him. Eliza’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest. It was the scene she’d seen play out in the sitting room, but with herself part of it.

“My sweet Eliza,” he said. “I’d not’ve suggested the trade if I’d been at all opposed to it. The man also tossed in a tremendous amount of tea as part of the exchange.”

“Did you drink a lot of tea while you were there?” She’d worried about him being in a place that had saloons and liquor to be bought with ease.

“Gallons of it,” he said.

That was a relief.

“Between the tea and the barn, I didn’t struggle as much as I feared I would,” he said. “And trading for labor wasn’t too much of a worry. I’m not needing money in m’pocket just now.”

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