Page 52 of Valley of Dreams

“Even though it was complicated?”

“The challenge makes a job more fun.”

Whether it was his breathtaking smile or the fact that he not only had built something large and difficult but had actually enjoyed doing so, her heart hopped in her chest.

“If I told you about an idea—a dream, really—that I have, would you promise not to laugh at me?” she asked.

“Do people usually laugh at this dream of yours?” He sounded sincerely concerned.

“I haven’t told anyone about it yet. Well, except for Lydia, but, as you can see, she isn’t spilling any of my secrets.” The little girl was fast asleep on the blanket, lying on her back with one arm flung outward and her legs bent. When Lydia was exhausted, she could fall asleep in the most uncomfortable-looking positions.

“Still carrying her handkerchief,” Patrick said. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen her without it.”

“It’s her doll. The closest thing to a doll I’ve been able to get her, at least.” Eliza pushed through her embarrassment on that count. “I realize that’s a little pathetic.”

Patrick hefted another large brick. “Do you think so low of yourself because you haven’t mountains of money at the ready?”

“I’m not looking to havemountains,” she said. “But enough for a doll and shoes for Lydia would be nice. I want to have a home of our own. To be able to contribute something to the weeklycéilís.”

He looked over at her. “Is that the dream you were speaking of?”

She smiled. “Oh, I dream much bigger than that.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He returned to his efforts. “I’ll not laugh.”

Eliza stroked Lydia’s hair as she spoke. “Do you remember when you were visiting a few days ago and I told you about the inn I grew up in?”

“Aye.”

“That’s my dream, to have that again.”

He grew very still facing the wall he was building. He didn’t look back at her. “You’re wanting to return to England?”

“No.” Even if she’d wanted to, she could never have afforded passage back. “I’d like to run an inn, like my family does, but here.”

He resumed his work. “Here in America?”

“Here in Hope Springs.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. His posture grew less rigid. He looked over at her. There wasn’t any of laughter or mockery in his expression. He seemed content more than anything.

“There’s not an inn in Hope Springs.” It wasn’t a dismissal of her ambitions, simply a statement of fact. She appreciated that.

“One would have to be built.” She spoke a little hesitantly, unsure of her footing going forward. “But that’s not something I know anything about.”

Patrick pulled his hat off long enough to push his hair back off his forehead before replacing it. “I know something about that.”

“Could it be built, do you think?”

“Oh, sure. The building of it is the easy part.”

She shook her head. “Spoken like someone who has actually built something like this. I wouldn’t have the first idea how to begin.”

He stood quite nearby, feet shoulder-width apart, hands tucked into his trouser pockets. “You’d want to have access to water and level ground if possible.”

Heavens, he was distracting standing there like that.

“You’d need materials, workers,” he continued.

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