Page 96 of Valley of Dreams

This was, indeed, a town of broken people. Not everyone’s lives, it seemed, had been mended. Could hers? Could Patrick’s?

No sooner had he entered her thoughts than she pushed him out. That way lay misery. She wouldn’t let her disappointment in him dampen her spirits. How she wished they’d sorted out the difficulty of her inn. If that had been moving forward, she wouldn’t have had the least doubt about this place being where she was meant to raise her daughter. As it was, nothing felt certain.

“Mrs. Porter?”

Eliza turned at the sound of a man speaking her name. “Dr. Jones.” He was always pleasant to spend time with.

“The musicians are striking up an air. Would you care to dance with me?”

The women around her all smiled a bit too broadly, eyes twinkling. Eliza hadn’t the slightest doubt Dr. Jones would run for the hills if any of them made a comment. He was confident in himself as a man of medicine, but he was also shy in most any other interaction.

“I would like to dance with you.” Eliza stood as she spoke.

They made good their escape, leaving before the attention pushed Dr. Jones to an embarrassed blush. They’d danced at previouscéilís, and she’d always enjoyed it. He was easy to talk with, and he always listened.

Eliza was reluctant to raise the topic she most needed to discuss with him, but she couldn’t avoid it forever. “I am sorry I haven’t been able to move forward with your infirmary,” she said as they spun about the dancing area. “I’m not certain we’ll manage it in the end.”

“I understand, I assure you. Life is seldomlesscomplicated than we expect it to be.”

That was the truth. “I haven’t given up yet, but . . .” She offered him an apologetic look. “You must be frustrated.”

“I don’t get easily frustrated,” he said. “At least, I don’tstaythat way.”

“Where did you learn the trick of that?” she asked, feeling a little better.

“The Chicago Orphan Asylum.”

The answer was so unexpected, she stumbled over the next steps. “I’m sorry.”

“About the asylum or the dance steps?” He spoke with a tiny upward tip to his lips.

“Both.”

“You needn’t be sorry about either one,” he said. “The orphanage was not ideal, and I was not particularly happy there. But I found my way, and I’m far from there now.” A hint of mischief entered his expression. “And I’ve stumbled over my fair share of dance steps.” His graciousness was more than welcome.

“You really don’t stay frustrated, do you?”

“Frustration convinces a person to simply stop when a road isn’t leading where he wants. I prefer to find the road thatdoeslead there rather than curse the heavens about the road I’ve been walking.”

There was wisdom in that. “Switching roads can be frightening.”

He nodded. “But worth it.”

Worth it.

What if she switched roads? Would that be worth it? Choosing a different path to walk?

That, she suspected, was the question she needed to answer most.

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