Page 132 of Valley of Dreams

“I was so nervous during the stage ride to Hope Springs,” she said. “I knew only Maura and Aidan, and I worried I’d never find a home. I could not have imagined that my home was right there in the stagecoach with me.”

“I know I didn’t show it at the time, but your determination to befriend me during the journey meant the world to me. I needed it more than I can say even now.”

As they drove on, she began humming the tune that refused to leave her thoughts, a tune that had made a home in her heart these past weeks. She knew the moment Patrick recognized it; he laughed.

“A catchy little ditty, isn’t it? ‘Love, won’t you marry me? O, marry me, marry me?’”

He continued singing as they wound their way toward the home that would be theirs until the inn was finished. Finbarr had made a point of telling them he wanted them to live there. Though it was inarguably kind of him, she knew with certainty that more than generosity was at play in his prolonged absence from the home his brother had built him. He never attended thecéilís. He didn’t consistently make an appearance at family dinners. The young man was struggling with something; she only hoped this family she was now so fully part of could find the means of helping him navigate it.

They arrived at their temporary home only moments before the rest of the family did. Soon, the house was full to bursting with O’Connors. Food was nearly as abundant as the laughter and music.

Patrick and Eliza sat near the fireplace, hand in hand. He was no longer uncomfortable when surrounded by his family. She cherished that change in him. He’d found peace. With efficiency borne of many years’ practice, Mrs. O’Connor and her daughters and daughters-in-law had the entire clan fed. The children ran about, happily playing. The adults took obvious delight in one another’s company.

As the evening wore on, Ian and Biddy came and sat beside Eliza and Patrick. Ian held a paper-wrapped bundle out to his brother. “A present for you.”

Patrick took it, curiosity and amused wariness in his eyes. He untied the twine holding the paper and slowly, cautiously began unwrapping it.

“’Tisn’t anything dangerous,” Ian said with a laugh.

Patrick pulled the paper back entirely, revealing a dark green tin. “Tea?”

“I told you in the mountains that I’d see to it you never ran out of tea. I’m making certain you start this new life with a plentiful supply.”

“You must like me, at least a little.”

“A very little.”

Eliza exchanged a theatrical eyeroll with Biddy. “These two. What will we do with them?”

“Love them, probably.”

Eliza nodded. “Sounds like heaven.”

Patrick rose and crossed to the cupboards by the stove, then set the tin on a shelf.

“Thank you for that,” Eliza said low and quick to her new brother- and sister-in-law. “He’s so much better now than he was, and not merely because he has something else to drink when he’s . . . thirsty. You’ve helped him to see that he’s loved and wanted by all of you. He needed to hear that from more than just me.”

“Thankyou,” Ian answered. “I’m convinced your friendship and your kindness kept him here, and you kept him trying. You saved him, and you’ll be my favorite sister for that.” He said the last bit with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Just don’t tell the others.”

“It will be our secret.”

Patrick returned a moment later, having acquired a sleeping Lydia on his way back. “Mo stóirínhas had all the fun she can handle for one day, I’d wager.”

“You never have told me whatmo stóirínmeans.”

“My little darling,” he said.

He’d called Lydia that from the beginning. He’d cherished her from the very first. How could he possibly have doubted his goodness?

“We’d best let your sweet girl sleep,” Biddy said, getting to her feet.

In a surprisingly short amount of time, the large O’Connor clan gathered their things, their children, and themselves, and with hugs and words of happiness, slipped out. And the house was sweetly, peacefully quiet.

Patrick carried Lydia through the door to the room they’d decided would be hers and set her in the bed they’d made for her months ago when they’d been little more than acquaintances working at being friends. She didn’t wake, hardly stirred.

They tucked her blankets comfortably around her and each gently kissed her soft little cheek.

“I love you,mo stóirín,” Patrick whispered to Lydia before standing once more.

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