Page 89 of Valley of Dreams

He turned his head toward her, hiding his mouth from any curious eyes. He dropped his voice to a near-silent whisper. “I haven’t told them everything.”

“But you’ve told me everything, and you’ve made a start with them.”

He pulled a breath in through his nostrils then pushed it slowly past his lips. “I hope it helps.”

Her expression changed. Her mouth and brows twisted in contemplative confusion. She studied his face.

“What is it?” he asked.

Nothing changed, and she didn’t answer.

“Eliza?”

She waved him off but didn’t look any less concerned or confused.

Patrick returned his attention to those looking through the haversack and eying the things inside. He explained to one of Mary’s children how to use the compass. Ciara flipped almost reverently through pages of Grady’s pocket-size book of Robert Burns’s poems. Ian’s son took up the folding mirror.

“That was used for shaving,” Patrick said. “’Twouldn’t do to take a razor to one’s throat without a mirror at hand.”

“It folds up so small,” Ian said, opening and closing it a few times.

“We hadn’t much room in our haversack.” For the first time in ten years, Patrick was able to talk about the war without being crushed by the weight of guilt and regret. Ma didn’t try to give him the tintype again. Ian didn’t ask any further questions.

Patrick ought to have been entirely relieved. But Eliza was still watching him in that unsettling way. “Are you upset with me, lass?”

She shook her head, but then she rose to leave.Leave? The dinner hadn’t even begun yet.

Patrick followed her and Lydia out the door, stopping her a few steps away from the house. “What happened? You seem displeased with me.”

She faced him, still clearly confused and upset.

“What is it?” he pressed.

“All the times we’ve talked and planned, and you’ve held my hand or heldme. . . how often were you drunk?”

“Drunk?”

Her expression hardened a little. “My husband was not the only one who worked in a bar during our leanest months, Patrick. I know the smell of whiskey on someone’s breath, and I know the particular redness in the eyes of someone who’s been drinking.”

Oh, blessed fields.Panic began surging inside him.

“How many more of my secrets were you going to require before you shared this one with me?” She sounded both angry and hurt. “I told you things from my past I’ve not told anyone because I was so certain I could trust you. You made me think I could.”

“You can,” he said. “I want you to.”

“If I hadn’t sorted it out on my own, would you have ever told me?”

He wished he could say yes, but he didn’t know. He’d come to get his family’s help with this, and he still hadn’t toldthem.

“Were you drinking last night?” she asked.

“Not before your visit.”

That didn’t seem to reassure her. “Have you ever held Lydia after you’ve been drinking?”

“I’ve never been drunk when holding her.”

Eliza’s expression remained sharp and hard. “That’s not what I asked.”

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