Page 15 of Valley of Dreams

He suspected Eliza Porter was happyeverywhere. He’d once been more that way, before life had beaten every bit of joy out of him.

“How is your lip?” she asked, not appearing the least horrified at having witnessed a man getting slugged without warning. “It’s so well hidden behind all those unkempt whiskers.”

“Fine.”

He spotted Lydia toddling toward him, fingers in her mouth. She stopped directly in front of him, wide eyes studying him. He looked to the little chipmunk’s ma, hoping for an explanation. Eliza only shrugged.

The little girl didn’t look away, or move away, or say a word. He eyed her, very unsure of it all.

“Good mornin’, lass.”

Still, she didn’t speak or move so much as an eyelash. At least she wasn’t afraid of him.

Eliza hadn’t been helpful, so he looked to Maura next. Blast the woman, she was clearly laughing at him despite not making a sound.

Lydia pulled her fingers out of her mouth and put them, dripping with tiny-girl drool, on the leg of his years-old, work-stained, thread-bare trousers. “I-und!”

“Ireland.” Eliza offered the unnecessary translation.

He remembered the girl’s attempt at the word the day before. He hadn’t expected Lydia to remember. Did she think that was his name?

He pointed at himself. “Patrick.”

“I-und.”

“Pat . . . rick.” He pulled the two syllables out long and slow.

She grinned—the brightest, widest smile he had ever seen. “I-und!”

In that moment, the girl claimed a bit of his long-frozen heart.

“I’m afraid you’ll be ‘Ireland’ from now on, Mr. Patrick,” Eliza said, scooping her daughter up off the floor. “Lydia does not lose battles of will.”

“Splendid,” he muttered.

As always, she wasn’t the least put off by his grumbling. “I hope your lip is better, and that you didn’t lose any teeth.”

“I didn’t.”

She and her daughter both smiled at him as they walked out of the sitting room.

Voices sounded back in the kitchen, one the lower rumble of a man and the other the in-between tones of a boy on the verge of growing up.

“That’ll be the lads back from the fields looking for a bit to eat, most likely. Aidan’s convinced his schoolteacher to pack his lessons into three days a week instead of five so he can work and learn how to run a farm.”

Aidan had found his place in this farming community. Patrick didn’t think he’d ever be happy plowing fields and tending animals. Was there any other work to be had in this valley?

“Come offer a ‘good day.’” Maura motioned for him to follow her.

It seemed all he’d done since his arrival in Hope Springs was greet people. He’d once thrived in company and conversation. That part of him had long-since disappeared.

They passed through the dining room, but Maura stopped before they stepped into the kitchen, blocking his way. She looked back at him, sudden hesitation in her expression. “Have you seen Finbarr yet?”

He hadn’t, so he indicated as much.

“I’ll warn you, then.”

Warn him?

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