Page 66 of Valley of Dreams

“Dr. Jones seems like a decent fellow.”

“I suppose.” Finbarr felt around for another gap to fill. “And Eliza’s a good sort. She ought to be happy. She and her little girl deserve that.”

The doctor was seen as a source of happiness for Eliza and Lydia. When had they grown that close?Whyhad they grown so close? The strength of his reaction to the doctor’s friendliness with Eliza surprised him. He couldn’t dismiss it as disapproval of Dr. Jones or protectiveness toward Eliza.

He was feeling one thing, and one thing alone: envy.

Begor. What was wrong with him? He knew perfectly well what happened when he forged a closeness with people. It never ended well—for anyone. He’d left broken connections and broken dreams strewn all over the United States and Canada. He wouldn’t leave the same carnage in Hope Springs.

Yet he wanted to make a home here. He wanted Eliza to have the peace her late husband’s family had robbed her of. He wanted Lydia to live with joy in Hope Springs.

But the years had shown him all too clearly that peace and joy and home were not things people found when he was part of their lives.

Chapter Sixteen

Patrick didn’t manageto convince Finbarr to ask their family about helping with the roof of his house. For some reason, the lad was as uncomfortable with their family as he himself was. Despite his shaky standing among them, Patrick had agreed to be the messenger.

Approaching Da at that week’scéilíseemed his likeliest chance of success; he wasn’t likely to toss profanities at Patrick’s head when all the neighbors were looking on.

He moved to stand beside his da, pausing to build up his courage. Asking his family for a favor was a bold thing to do. Arrogant, even. He justified it by reminding himself that the favor was for Finbarr, not for himself. That they’d do anything for their youngest brother.

After a drawn-out moment of watching the gathering, Da spoke. “Do you remember thecéilísin Ireland?”

“Not really. I haven’t many solid memories of our homeland.”

“You were young when we left. Even Tavish’s memories are few and vague, and he’s two years older than you are. It’s done your ma’s heart and mine good to give our children a taste of home.”

“And all the town, at that,” Patrick added.

A smug smile pulled at Da’s weathered face. “We even got our stubborn American neighbors to embrace a heap of our traditions. If you’d asked me five years ago whether they’d ever see value in us or our customs, I’d’ve struggled to decide whether to laugh or cry.”

That was unexpected. “Has the town had troubles?”

“Aye. We had a war on our hands here, and many suffered for it.” Da looked to him. “Did Biddy tell you about Ian taking a beating to the head?”

“She did.”

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