Page 37 of Valley of Dreams

He reached up and tentatively touched his newly cut hair. “This will take some getting used to.”

“As, I suspect, will the attention you’ll get for it.”

His expression sobered. “Attention,” he repeated in a whisper. He released a tight breath. “What purgatory have you unleashed on me, Eliza?”

She grinned, but the expression faded as she realized he wasn’t joking. He paused only long enough to check quickly on Lydia, then slipped out with all the panic of a criminal on the run attempting to escape capture.

How she hoped he realized how much better he looked this way, and how much better it would be if he’d stop hiding behind the shield he’d so expertly wielded. He was a kindhearted soul, and such a thing was something that ought not be hidden.

Chapter Nine

Patrick stopped onthe bridge over the Hope Springs River and leaned over enough to see his reflection in the water below. He’d run his hands over his short, neatly trimmed beard and cut hair and knew how drastic the change was. But he hadn’t seen it, and he wanted to.

The face that looked back at him was exactly what he’d feared for years: it was Grady. They’d always looked alike—he, Grady, and Tavish—and he’d feared that his grief would be too acute to bear if he had to see his dead brother’s face in the mirror every day.

He rubbed his stubble. Grady had always been clean shaven. That was one difference. And his own hair had a little wave to it, while Grady’s hadn’t. Maybe if he focused on that, then he could endure the constant reminder of a life cut short.

But could the rest of the family? He’d be seeing them in only a matter of minutes, after all. ’Twas Biddy’s birthday, and the O’Connors were gathering to celebrate. He’d not managed to weasel out of it.

He stood straight once more, no longer looking at himself in the water. His family were all at Ian and Biddy’s. Ma would be disappointed if he didn’t take part. What better time to send the family into a state of shock than while they were all celebrating a birthday? He pushed out a breath. How was it he managed to ruin every happy moment the O’Connor family had?

He stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and dragged himself down the road. He passed Ciara’s house, Maura’s, Tavish’s. Ian’s sat next. Da and Ma’s would be after that if he were going that far. Mary’s house sat on the other side of their parents’. Finbarr wouldn’t be living on the road beside the rest of the family. Was that because there wasn’t room? Where, then, wouldhelive? There were no more farms available alongside his family’s. He wasn’t a farmer, anyway.

Patrick stepped up to the door at Ian and Biddy’s house. His brother likely wouldn’t be very happy to see him, but the rest of the family would at least pretend to be.

He knocked.

A moment later, the door opened. Ian’s daughter, nine years old, he’d been told, stood on the other side. Plenty of people moved around behind her, voices echoing throughout the small space. Ian’s daughter tipped her head, and her eyes narrowed on him in confusion. He did look a vast deal different.

“Patrick,” he told her. “With a haircut.”

“Your beard is gone.”

Almost without thinking, he reached up and ran his hand over the neatly trimmed whiskers. “Mostly.”

From behind her, Biddy’s voice called, “Who’s at the door, Mary?”

---