Longing for Home (7 page)

Chapter Six

Walking through the deepening mud and unending downpour, Katie couldn’t keep thoughts of the past at bay. Too often she’d been out in the elements with no place to turn for relief. The skies had been steely gray the day Father walked her from back door to back door down the finer streets of Derry begging the housekeepers to give her a job.

Katie had cried the whole day long but hadn’t spoken a word against his efforts. What parent would wish to keep a child who’d killed another? When at last someone agreed to take her, Father left her there without a backward glance, shoulders hung in wearied defeat. Pain had broken him. Pain she’d caused.

He’d mourned the loss of his land, wept at not having the means of giving his dead daughter a proper headstone, railed against The Famine for taking so much from him and his family. For two decades Katie had worked, trying to save enough to get back all he’d lost. Nothing she did could bring her sister back, but if she could only return her father’s land and the pride he’d once taken in working it, surely he’d forgive her all she’d done. Surely he’d love her again.

Thunder rumbled around her. Katie eyed the sky with misgivings. The last thing she needed was lightning joining the fall of rain.

She blew away the water dripping off her nose and running down her lips. Water had long since seeped into her badly worn shoes. She could endure a cold face, aching hands, wind piercing through her clothes. Hair heavy with rain could be borne. But when the cold reached her feet, Katie fought not to panic. She’d spent too many days and nights as a little girl crying from the pain of feet unprotected against the elements.

“My feet are beginning to ache, Eimear,” she whispered into the punishing wind. Talking to her sister had become an oddly soothing habit over the years, one that gave her a sense of being less alone. “They’re growing cold.”

But at least they are cold.
Katie well remembered what it meant when one’s limbs stopped feeling frozen.

A flash of lightning lit the sky, followed quickly by an ear-splitting crash of thunder. She’d best find shelter quickly. Katie had passed only two houses. The O’Connor home was the fifth down that road, a long distance to cover with a storm breaking overhead.

She could see lights in a house not far distant but none beyond. Either the rain made seeing further impossible, or the next farm was quite far off. She’d not be making it to the O’Connors’ house in this storm.

“Now what am I to do, Eimear? Continue on in the lightning, or turn in at a stranger’s farm?”

Just beyond the small farmhouse sat a barn, silhouetted against the darkened night sky. No lights burned inside the barn, a sign the family who owned it had finished their work for the night. She could likely slip in without being seen.

Another thunderous crash overhead made up her mind for her. Shelter was necessary sooner rather than later.

For more than six weeks she’d followed her parents into barns or abandoned homes under the cover of night. Taking refuge in either place was against the law. They’d risked imprisonment every time, but winter weather was unforgiving in the vast openness of the Irish countryside. There’d been no money, no food, no home to return to.

The storm brewed ever louder as she turned toward the barn, careful not to make more noise than necessary. She glanced now and then in the direction of the home as she passed. Quick flashes of light lit the sky, followed quickly by the deep roll of thunder.

Her hand shook as she slowly pushed open the barn door. Blessed warmth sat inside. The rain no longer pelted her. The wind did not come inside, save the tiniest bit of a draft under the door. She could hear the sounds of animals moving about and talking in their own way to one another. They’d likely pay her little heed if she stayed near the door and kept quiet. Katie pressed her palm to the wall, following it almost blindly. A few paces inside, she set her carpetbag down before sliding to the ground herself.

Katie pulled the wet woolen shawl off her head, laying it out across her bag. Perhaps it would dry out a bit before she need brave the storm once more. Water dripped down her face, off her nose and chin. She pulled her arms around herself, grateful for the respite despite the chill seeping through her wet clothes. A miserable, miserable night.

She wiggled her toes, finding a deep sense of relief in knowing she still could. ’Twas a childish and silly fear of hers, but she worried that every moment of cold and wet would prove disastrous. Yet the worry never fully left her.

She allowed her head to fall back against the barn wall, tired to her core. A barn was not the place she’d expected to spend the night. The smell of animals would almost certainly linger with her in the morning. The darker corners and piles of hay likely hid rats and mice. She’d spent most of the two weeks’ journey across the Atlantic worrying over the vermin that made their homes alongside the poorest passengers, like herself, who endured that voyage in steerage class.

“Meaning,” she told herself firmly, “you’re perfectly capable of enduring this. ’Tis nothing you haven’t borne before.”

Endure it she could. But how long could she hide out there? She’d need to eat eventually. She’d need a job. ’Twas always the same. Work and money. She seemed to forever be chasing down both.

“It’s not a selfish thing I’m wanting. I’m not looking to challenge the queen herself for riches. I only want to go home.”

Home.
Speaking that word hadn’t broken her voice in years, yet, sitting there in the dark of a stranger’s barn, she couldn’t push the word out whole. She shook her head at herself, shook it again and again. There would be no tears, she silently insisted. None.

“Enough now,” she whispered. “You made this bed eighteen years ago, and you’ll lie in it until you’ve earned the right to get out.”

Katie rubbed her chilled arms. What was she to do now? If she couldn’t find work elsewhere in town, she was in a pinch, to be sure. ’Twas more than two days’ wagon ride back to the train station, and she hadn’t so much as a pony or a mule to her name.

“A fine fix, this,” she muttered. “A fine, fine fix.”

A burst of fierce wind sounded through the cracks and gaps of the barn. The door flew open, slamming against the wall not far from where Katie sat. She leaped to her feet and pushed hard against the door, grateful when the wind died down enough to allow her to close it again.

Her pulse continued racing some moments after calm returned to the barn. The door had come too close to pinning her against the barn wall. The animals were noisy after the disruption to their peace. Katie moved slowly back to where she’d been. ’Twas a very good thing she’d been inside during that gust. It would’ve knocked her off her feet.

Just as she made to sit once more, Katie heard a sound that unnerved her more than the continued wind: approaching footsteps.

She froze, listening and frantically thinking. Katie knew herself in the wrong, trespassing on another’s land. She might try hiding but hadn’t the slightest idea where nor the time to look about. Huddling further in the corner wouldn’t help much, for there was nothing to slip behind. She’d be seen for certain.

She heard the door creak open.

Oh, help.

Katie stepped back, away from the doorway, as far into the corner as she could quickly and quietly get. She couldn’t hide, precisely, but perhaps whoever stepped through wouldn’t look in her direction. She lowered herself to the ground, tucked into the corner, just as the door opened fully.

’Twas a man, largely built. Katie froze, her heart pounding through every inch of her. He held a lantern up, moving it from one side to the other as he stepped further inside. If only he would turn back and go. The man was searching and no doubt about it. He must have seen the wind blow the door open, then watched as it closed seemingly on its own. He’d have known someone was inside. He’d know it as surely as a cloud knows the sky.

Help me!

He had already passed her when he turned toward the side of the barn where she hid. Even through the slats of the stall near her, she could see he’d come with more than his lantern. The man held a shotgun, held it like he knew just how to use it.

Katie pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound of her breathing. Saints, if the man found her there she was good as dead. Cold and fear set her shaking. Katie only hoped she didn’t make enough noise to draw his attention.

Please walk on past. Walk past.

He stopped a bit beyond halfway and held the lantern high, glancing in all directions. If only he’d decide there was no one to be found and go about his way. He glanced toward the front once, then twice, the second time keeping his gaze there. By the tilt of his broad-brimmed hat, he wasn’t looking at the door but something on the ground.

She’d left her shawl and bag near the door. Saints above! There they sat, in full view of this stranger and his gun, testament to her presence. She couldn’t slip out. He’d look until he found her.

Panic seized her. There’d be no sneaking away, no hiding. He hung the lantern on a peg beside the door and hunched down, taking the wet shawl in his hand. He turned his head in her direction. The man must have been looking directly at her from under his hat. She knew he saw her there.

Saints o’ mercy. Just don’t kill me.

Katie opened her mouth to explain, but no sound would emerge. He yet held his gun and was well within his rights to use it. She couldn’t breathe.

His head tipped a bit to the side. “Katie?”

What, begorra, was Katie doing hiding in the corner of Ian’s barn? Tavish leaned his shotgun against the wall.

“Have you gone and lost your mind, woman?” he asked. “I might’ve shot you if I’d not recognized you first.”

“Tavish?” Had she only just realized who he was?

He took off his hat. “Now how about you answer my question? What are you doing hiding in my brother’s barn?”

The stubborn woman with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue fell to pieces right there in front of him. Her face crumbled. She dropped her head into her hands, her breath coming broken and unsteady.

Tavish strongly suspected he’d scared her out of her wits by coming into the barn with a gun. If he’d had any idea she was the one who’d closed the door, he wouldn’t have arrived armed.

He squatted down in front of her, thrown by the fact that she still hadn’t spoken. She must have really been upset. “Come now, Katie. No harm done. Don’t cry.”

She pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose but still didn’t look at him. Several deep breaths seemed to calm her a bit. She even hazarded a terribly uncertain glance at him.

He gave her his most winning smile. “Are you fond of barns, then, that you sit about in them in all kinds of weather?”

Katie shook her head. “I was so very wet, and the lightning seemed terrible close, and . . .” She let out another long breath. “I’m sorry.”

She chose the barn to escape the elements?

Tavish shook his head at that bit of female logic. “But why didn’t you knock at the house?”

“I didn’t know who lived here.” She pulled her arms around herself and dropped her gaze again.

Her hair sat wet and heavy against her face. He had the strongest urge to brush it back out of her way but felt certain she’d not appreciate his doing so. The Katie Macauley he’d shared a wagon bench with only that afternoon would likely have broken his fingers for touching her. Where had that banshee of a woman gone?

“Mr. Archer said the O’Connors were the fifth house down, and I hadn’t gone that far.”

“My parents’ house is the fifth one. My sister’s is fourth. This is Ian’s. Mine’s the second. Another sister sits first after the bridge.”

“There are a lot of O’Connors,” Katie said.

He had to smile at that. “Some might say too many.” His eyes didn’t leave her face. She was such an unexpected combination of independence and need. She looked away from his scrutiny, noticeably pulling into herself.

“Joseph Archer let you go, did he?” Tavish honestly hadn’t expected that of him.

Katie nodded.

Odd. “He and I don’t always agree, but I’d at least have thought him above throwing a woman out in a storm.”

“I’ve endured worse, I assure you.”

Her declaration, devoid as it was of self-pity, struck right at his heart. He didn’t like the idea of anyone, let alone a woman he suspected was very much alone in the world, being treated so poorly. “Why don’t you come up to the house? We’re about to sit down to eat.”

She didn’t take even a moment to consider his offer. “I won’t take food off your brother’s table. I owe him yet for driving me into town.”

“We don’t keep tallies of such things in this family, Katie.”

“I do,” she answered. “I don’t care to be beholden to anyone.”

That determined chin of hers rose once more. The feisty colleen was back again.

“Why do I suspect I ought to have named you Stubborn Katie rather than Sweet Katie?”

“You needn’t mock me.” There was the slow-burning dislike he’d heard in the wagon. Katie was returning to herself in spades now.