Irish Meadows (14 page)

G
IL
WALKED
INTO
Hastings Bank and Loan and inhaled the smell of lemon furniture polish and money. The nerves swirling in the pit of his stomach reminded him that the newness of the situation would take a few days to wear off. He squared his shoulders, determination filling him. No matter how this turn of events had come about, he would make the best of the situation. The Good Lord had His reasons for bringing him here, and Gil vowed to do the best job possible, no matter how much he disliked it.

He took a long look around the interior of the impressive building. Gleaming dark wood ran the length of the room, divided by iron grills for each teller. Due to the early hour, only one or two customers were being served. On the opposite wall, brass nameplates adorned the doors of several offices.

Gil strode down the main corridor to a desk where a receptionist looked up as he approached. He tugged his vest into place. “Good morning. I have an appointment with Mr. Hastings. Gilbert Whelan is the name.”

“One moment and I'll get him for you, Mr. Whelan.”

She returned several minutes later with Mr. Hastings behind her.

“Gilbert. It's good to see you. Please come in.”

Gil shook the man's hand and followed him to the far end of the building, where Mr. Hastings entered a large corner office. He gestured to a cushioned guest seat while he rounded the enormous desk and claimed the high-back leather chair.

“Once again, let me tell you how pleased I am to have you here. I don't know what changed your mind, and I don't care. I'm only going to congratulate myself on my good fortune.”

“I'm glad you feel that way, sir.” Gil let his hands rest on the arms of the chair, willing his nerves to subside.

“My goal is to have you in the loans department as soon as possible. Given your excellent education, I'm sure your training will go smoothly.”

“I appreciate your confidence.”

“Good. Let's take care of the paperwork, and then I'll introduce you to the man who'll be training you.” Mr. Hastings rose. “On a personal note, I hope you'll join us for dinner tonight. My wife and daughter are in the city for a few days to do some shopping.”

Gil's shoulders stiffened, but he smiled. “Thank you. I'd enjoy that.”

They walked out into the main area of the bank. “Did you manage to procure a room at the boarding house I recommended?”

“Yes, sir. Mrs. Shaughnessy had a room available on the second floor. So far it's very comfortable.”

“Wonderful. Everything is falling into place nicely.”

Gil held back a sigh as he followed Mr. Hastings, thinking how everything had fallen
out
of place and trying not to imagine what Brianna was doing at that very moment.

Bright and early Wednesday morning, Colleen stood on the platform of the Long Island train station, tapping her toe to match the impatience that shimmied through her. What was her father thinking sending her to an orphanage—with Rylan Montgomery of all people? How could she ever hope to meet wealthy bachelors while surrounded by nuns? She huffed loudly, blowing one perfect curl off her forehead. Maybe marriage to Jared wasn't such a bad idea after all, compared to this penance she was being forced to endure.

“Here comes the train now.” Rylan jogged down the platform toward her, his dark hair waving in the breeze.

Seconds later, the engine came to a grinding halt in front of them amid a swirl of smoke. Colleen held back, stalling until all the passengers had disembarked and the new passengers had entered.

Rylan took her by the elbow and nudged her toward the open door. “Don't be plotting to miss the train,” he said in a low voice. “I've promised your father I'll make sure you do this, and I always keep my word.”

She shot him a glare. “I'm sure you do.” They mounted the steps and made their way down the narrow aisle, where Colleen chose a seat beside the window. “This whole idea was probably yours to begin with.” She arranged her skirt around her with a flare. “It sounds like something a priest would dream up.”

Rylan took a seat facing her. “It was your father, trust me. I didn't think Sister Marguerite would even agree to it at first. But my amazing charm won her over.” He grinned, creating dimples in both cheeks.

Colleen scowled and turned to look out the window as the train chugged forward. She shuddered, picturing filthy urchins living in a hovel and the nuns who would surely judge her with self-righteous piety. Perhaps she should have given her plan to seduce Gil more consideration.

“So why did you do it?”

Rylan's quiet question brought her attention crashing back to the stuffy interior of the train, with its drab plaid seats and grimy windows. He had leaned forward, his intelligent brown eyes missing nothing. Even dressed in his black priest garb and white collar, he managed to make her pulse sprint.

“Do what?”

“Kiss Gilbert. I thought you had an understanding with Mr. Nolan.” He quirked a brow. “Seems to me you couldn't be that committed to him if you were kissing another man.”

The fact that his voice held no judgment, only idle curiosity, kept Colleen's temper at bay. The words
loose
and
strumpet
had been bandied about in whispers at church the other morning. It had taken every ounce of pride for Colleen to hold her head high as she'd walked down the aisle to their usual pew. Jared's sister Rebecca's scathing glare had caused Colleen a rare pang of regret for hurting the Nolan family. Maybe Daddy was right. Maybe she was a vain and selfish creature.

Her cheeks flamed as she realized Rylan was still watching her, waiting for a reply. “I was only having a bit of fun.” She hoped he'd accept her quip and leave her in peace. She was tired of him trying to peer into her soul.

“You like people to believe you're a tease and a flirt, don't you? With nothing inside that beautiful head of yours but wicked schemes. I'm wondering why that is.”

“I have no idea what you're blathering on about.”

“I think you do. And I also think you pulled that little seduction scene for Mr. Nolan's benefit, so he'd call off your betrothal.”

Colleen's mouth fell open. Did the man have the power to read people's minds? She recovered quickly with a lift of her chin. “How could I have known Jared would happen to be in the barn to catch Gil and me?” She fiddled with the cuff of her blouse, not meeting his eyes.

“You likely arranged to meet Jared in the barn and then ambushed poor Gil, knowing Jared would be waiting for you.”

“Ridiculous.”

“What I don't understand is why you didn't just tell the man you don't wish to marry him. 'Twould have saved a whole host of problems.”

Her temper flared. “You don't know my father. Daddy would never have allowed—” She jerked her head up at the realization that she'd just confirmed his suspicions. He smiled knowingly, and she clenched her teeth together to keep from screaming at him.

Rylan reached over to put a hand on her arm. Heat penetrated through her blouse to her arm as though he'd branded her. “I believe a woman has the right to choose whom she marries, and no man, father or not, should have the power to force her to do otherwise. For what it's worth, I'm glad you're not marrying him. He's nowhere near good enough for you.” He gave her arm a light squeeze. “You're worth a great deal more to your family, and to God, than you give yourself credit for.”

Once again her mouth fell open. She clamped it shut, astonished to find tears threatening. In an effort to avoid those penetrating brown eyes, she turned her head to the window and pretended a sudden fascination with the passing landscape.

When they reached their stop, Rylan, who had remained blessedly silent for the remainder of the trip, helped her dismount to the platform below.

“The asylum's not far. Only a few blocks from here.”

After the stuffiness of the train, Colleen welcomed the fresh air as she kept pace beside Rylan. Right away, the high energy of the city revitalized her. She loved the hustle and bustle of all the people scurrying about, as well as the horses, carriages, and motorcars all jockeying for position on the busy streets. Her spirits lifted for the first time in days.

Rylan guided her across the street to an imposing four-story brown building with a wide cement staircase leading to the main door. An engraved brass sign on the door announced the location as “St. Rita's Orphan Asylum.”

As they entered the building, the hushed interior proved a far cry from the noise and bedlam she'd expected. The squeak of the door closing behind them seemed almost a sacrilege in the church-like atmosphere.

A woman at the reception desk peered over her spectacles as they approached. “Ah, Mr. Montgomery. It's good to see you again.”

He beamed at the woman. “Likewise, Mrs. Taft. This is Miss O'Leary. She's here to volunteer with the children.”

Mrs. Taft smiled at Colleen. “Wonderful. Let me get Sister Veronica for you. Please have a seat while you wait.” The plump woman bustled off down the hall.

Colleen took a seat beside Rylan on one of the guest chairs, marveling at the good taste in decorating. The architecture of the building alone inspired awe with its high ceilings, exquisite moldings, and tall windows. Far different from the rundown slum she'd envisioned. Maybe working here wouldn't be as bad as she'd imagined.

Colleen looked up to see a nun, dressed in white from the top of her habit to the white tips of her shoes, gliding toward her on the diamond-patterned carpet. Clasped in either hand was a well-dressed child, each walking with solemn confidence.

Rylan shot to his feet. “Good morning, Sister Veronica.”

Colleen envied the nun being the recipient of such a beaming smile. The woman herself couldn't be more than twenty-one or twenty-two, and the purity of her face shone from beneath her habit. Colleen got slowly to her feet, feeling completely out of her element.

“Sister, this is a distant cousin of mine, Miss Colleen O'Leary.
She's the one I mentioned who would be coming to volunteer with the children.”

The nun stepped forward to take Colleen's hand. “Welcome, Miss O'Leary. We're so happy to have you here. The children will be delighted, too.”

Colleen swallowed hard. What if the children hated her? “Pleased to meet you, Sister.”

Sister Veronica indicated the children at her side. “This is Jonathan Feeny and Delia O'Brien. Children, say hello to Miss O'Leary.”

The pair, who couldn't be more than four or five, bobbed a curtsey to her. “Hello, Miss O'Leary.”

The boy was dressed in short pants and suspenders over a starched white shirt, the girl just as tidy in a yellow dress with a matching bow holding her golden curls in place. Colleen's image of dirty urchins vanished. These children were adorable. She hoped their behavior matched their appearance.

“What will I be doing while I'm here?” Colleen ventured to ask, looking from Rylan to Sister Veronica.

The nun smiled again. “We'll start you off slowly, perhaps in the classroom, helping the children with their spelling.”

Colleen fought the dismay that held her breath captive. She never imagined she'd be back in a classroom a mere year after graduating. Still, there'd be no Mrs. Stephens to constantly remind her how brainless she was compared to her brilliant younger sister. Colleen squared her shoulders and attempted to appear confident. How hard could it be to help these little ones with their work?

“Follow me, Miss O'Leary. I'll take you to Sister Marguerite in the classroom.”

When Rylan made no move to accompany them, Colleen looked back. “You're not joining us?”

He grinned. “No such luck. Today I'm recruited to paint the dormitories. I'll leave you in Sister Veronica's capable hands.”
He gave a mock bow and bounded off toward the wide staircase leading to the upper level.