Page 127 of Valley of Dreams

Patrick wasn’t so optimistic. “They aren’t all in favor of the inn, worrying about the town being overrun, or the inn turning in to something too much like a saloon.”

“Placing it on the other side of our hill will set most minds at ease,” Da said. “Jeremiah Johnson is eager to open the tiny mercantile inside the inn that Eliza proposed. That will address the town’s worries about strangers coming into town looking for items to purchase. And Eliza’s said she doesn’t mean to serve liquor, which answers the remaining worries. Letting the town use the inn for gatherings and winter parties will take them from acceptance to enthusiasm.”

The family was already getting to their feet.

“We’ll begin getting the word out,” Mary said. “We can schedule the raising for this Saturday and end with thecéilí—outside, if need be.”

Patrick’s brothers and Da, as well as Joseph, had brought the building supplies back from the depot. Work could begin immediately.

Ma didn’t head out with the others but crossed to him instead. “Mo buachaill álainn.”

“You used to call me that all the time. I haven’t felt very ‘lovely’ in a lot of years.”

She touched his cheek softly and affectionately. “And, yet, I’m full certain you’ve been precisely that. Not perfect, not saintly—who among us is?—but lovely. And kind. And lonely.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“And I’ve missed you, my sweet, darling Patrick. Having you here with me is a miracle. Not a day goes by in which I don’t thank the heavens for you.”

“Being back with this family has saved my life,” he said. “And it’s given me a future and a reason to hope.”

“And it’s given you Eliza,” Ma added.

“Almost,” he corrected.

“Oh, son. Not nearly as ‘almost’ as you think. There’s no mistaking what I see between the two of you.” She slipped her arm through his. “I suspect you need only ask her.”

They walked toward the front door of Da and Ma’s house.

“What if she says no?” Patrick’s heart dropped at the thought.

“Then I will eat my bonnet.”

He could not hold back the laugh that comment summoned. “I adore you, Ma.”

“And I love you, my Patrick. Be brave, son. You had courage enough to come here and reclaim your life. It is time you begin fully living it.”

* * *

Saturday morning dawneda little colder than expected, but with clear skies and only a light breeze: the perfect day for building. Patrick stood in the midst of the piles of lumber and burlap sacks of nails, looking out over the gathering. He’d hoped his family could round up a few extra hands to help. The crowd gathered to help exceeded his wildest hopes.

At least as many people were gathered around the inn site as attended the weekly parties. They’d arrived with hammers and saws and friendly greetings. The spread of food was impressive. The excitement in their faces was encouraging.

“Best get them started, son,” Da said.

“Me?”

“’Tis your inn, lad.”

He shook his head. “’Tis Eliza’s.”

“I’ll grant you that, but they’re here to helpyoubuild it. Direct ’em so we can get started.”

Patrick climbed onto the back of a nearby wagon. He let forth a shrill whistle, pulling the crowd’s attention. “Thank you all for coming out to help this morning. We’re to have an inn near enough for gatherings like this, and forcéilís,and for having a place to store unwanted family members when they come for a visit.”

That earned him the expected smiles and eyerolls.

“We’ll divide into four teams,” he told them. “The plans have a few bends and corners, which complicates things for three of the four teams, but the fourth team will be building the long back wall and the interior load-bearing wall. That should even things up.” He pointed to the simplified building plans nailed to a makeshift easel he’d constructed. “This is what we’re needing. I’ve marked where the windows, doors, and fireplaces are meant to be. Frame up accordingly. I’ve a prize for the first team to finish their portion.”

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