Irish Meadows (34 page)

“I am the new manager of St. Rita's Orphan Asylum. Sister Marguerite has decided to go into semi-retirement and is in need of an assistant.”

A spasm of pain clutched Colleen's midsection. He'd made
no mention of his feelings or sharing his future with her. Only talk of his new career. Where did that leave her?

Rylan tipped up her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I don't think I'm making myself clear. I've left out the most important part.” He shifted position, one knee on the floor. “Colleen Elizabeth O'Leary, you stole my heart the first moment we met. I love you more than my own life, and if you'll have me, I'll spend the rest of my days proving it to you.”

Her throat convulsed. No words could make it past the blockage lodged there. She simply stared into the earnest brown pools as the room swayed around her.

He raised an amused brow. “In case you're still not understanding, I'm asking you to marry me.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

She'd never expected a proposal. After all, they'd only shared one kiss. “Are you sure?”

“More sure than I've ever been about anything. These last weeks without you have been torture. I don't want to spend one more day apart from you. If you'll have me, that is.” His earnest eyes searched hers.

“You won't resent giving up being a priest?” Her hands shook as real concern hit her. What if he came to regret marrying her?

“To tell the truth, it's a relief. I realized I entered the seminary to please my mother, instead of having a true calling. I can still serve God—and love you in the process.” He winked at her.

She gulped and waved a hand weakly in the air. “But where will we live?”

He chuckled. “Do we have to decide that right this minute?”

Her lips trembled. “Are you certain you can put up with me? According to my family, I'm not easy to live with.”

His gaze grew pensive as he studied her. “Ah, I believe I see the problem. You're thinking with your head instead of your
heart.” He rose and drew her to her feet. With gentle hands, he cupped her face and slowly lowered his mouth to hers.

Her soul gave a surge of joy at the feel of his lips on hers. A whimper rose in her throat and she pressed closer, eager to drink in every inch of him. His love was evident in the tenderness of his kiss and the gentle way he caressed her face with his thumbs.

When at last he released her, she opened her eyes to see him smiling at her. “Now maybe you'd care to answer my question.”

Her heart beat a frantic rhythm in her chest. “Yes.” The word whooshed out with a rush of air.

“You'll marry me?”

“Yes, I'll marry you.” A laugh bordering on hysteria bubbled up.

He let out a whoop, picked her up, and twirled her around until her head spun. Then he took her face in his hands and kissed her soundly once again. “I promise to spend my whole life making you happy, Colleen O'Leary.”

Before she could catch her breath, he reached for her hand and tugged her across the room. “Now that you've come to your senses, I have another surprise for you.” He pulled open the door and led her down the hall, stopping in front of the common room. “But first, I have one more question. A rather important one. You do want children, don't you?” His broad grin tempered his boldness.

Heat rose in her cheeks. “Of course, I'd like children one day . . .”

“One day? That sounds so far away.” Mischief gleamed in his eyes. “I was thinking of something much sooner.” He opened the door and motioned her inside.

“Miss O'Leary!” A familiar childish voice echoed in the large room.

Colleen's mouth fell open at the sight of Delia racing toward her. Colleen dropped to her knees and caught the little girl
against her, unable to stop another gush of tears from running down her cheeks.

She squeezed Delia so tight she squeaked, then rained kisses all over her darling face, not even minding the sticky candy residue on the girl's lips. “Delia! I've missed you so much. What are you doing here? Did your family bring you for a visit?”

The blond curls shook back and forth. “No. They didn't want me anymore so Mr. Rylan came and got me.”

A mixture of indignation and sorrow squeezed Colleen's lungs as she picked up Delia and turned to Rylan. “Can the family give her back like that?” She ached for the child who'd been given the chance of a new home only to be rejected by her adoptive family.

The regret on Rylan's face told the story. “I'm afraid so, darlin'. There's a three-month clause in the adoption contract, giving them time to see if the child is a good fit with the family.”

“But how did you know?”

“There was a letter from Sister Marguerite at the seminary, and since the family lived near Boston, I went to pick her up and bring her home.”

Delia's small, somewhat sticky hand reached to turn Colleen's face to her. “Maybe now you can be my mama.” The trusting blue eyes, so earnest and sincere, twisted Colleen's insides. How could she say no to her after everything she'd been through?

She threw a desperate glance at Rylan, who was smiling now through misty eyes.

“If I'm not presuming too much,” he said, “how would you feel about adopting this lovely wee girl once we're married?”

Colleen's heart swelled with an overwhelming cascade of emotion. This man had given her everything she'd ever dreamed of. “I love you, Rylan Montgomery. Almost as much as I love this imp.” She kissed Delia's face and squeezed her
again, laughing and crying at once. “I would be very happy to be your mama—as long as you can stand Mr. Rylan for a father.”

Delia giggled. “I think so.”

Rylan stretched his arms around both of them, pressing a kiss to Colleen's temple. “I love you both very much. I'm incredibly blessed to have you in my life.”

“Will I have to live at the orphanage?” Delia's nose scrunched as the question came to her.

“For a little while. Until Miss O'Leary and I get married and find a house to live in. But in the meantime, we'll be here every day with you.”

“When we get a house, can I have a puppy?” Her eyes flashed with mischief.

Colleen suppressed a laugh. “You're getting a mother, a father, a new house, and you want a puppy, too?”

Her little face fell. “I'm sorry. That's greedy, isn't it?”

Rylan plucked the child out of Colleen's arms. “We can't promise anything right now, until we see where we end up living.” He kissed the top of her head and set her down. “Why don't you run up and put your bag and Mr. Whiskers in your room? I have a few more things to discuss with Miss O'Leary, and then we'll take you out for ice cream to celebrate.”

“Ice cream!” She squealed and made a dash for the hallway.

The moment she was out of sight, Rylan pulled Colleen into his arms. “Are you sure about this? Taking on a husband is one thing. But an instant family is quite another.”

She pressed a hand to his chest. “Oh, Rylan. Ever since Delia left, I've secretly dreamed she would come back so I could adopt her myself. Only I didn't know how I'd manage it on my own. You've made me the happiest woman in America.”

She leaned up to kiss him, winding her fingers through his thick hair. As they drew apart, the intensity darkening his eyes sent goosebumps down her spine.

He leaned his forehead against hers. “I'm thinking I'd better talk to your father and get a marriage license very soon if you're going to be tempting me like that.”

She laughed, her heart overflowing with pure joy. “The sooner the better, Mr. Montgomery. The sooner the better.”

B
RIANNA
DESCENDED
THE
STAIRS
of Barnard College's main building, her arms laden with the books she'd just purchased. She needed to walk the two blocks to the streetcar stop, and her feet balked at the distance she would have to go before she could sit down. After a full day of touring the campus and then standing in line to buy her books, the soles of her feet burned inside her buttoned-up shoes.

The welcome sight of a bench at the edge of the college property beckoned to her. She sank gratefully onto the wrought-iron seat, her feet throbbing in relief. If she missed the streetcar, there'd be another one along sooner or later.

She set the books beside her and closed her eyes for a moment, letting the afternoon sun warm her face. If only the happy rays could lift her spirits as easily. An unshakeable cloud of melancholy had followed her ever since she'd left Irish Meadows. Instead of reveling in the bliss of finally achieving her dream, all she could think of was Gil.

He hadn't even put up a fight about her leaving, just kissed her cheek and wished her the best of luck with her studies. As if she were a passing acquaintance or a little sister. He could have at least pretended to be more upset at her leaving.

“Miss O'Leary?”

Behind her, a male voice brought Brianna's thoughts flying back. She looked over her shoulder to see a tall, vaguely familiar man rushing toward her.

“Miss O'Leary. Thank goodness I caught up with you. You left one of your purchases behind.” With a wide smile, he stopped in front of her and held out a thick textbook.

That was where she'd seen him. He'd been working behind the counter at the bookstore. “Thank you so much.” She accepted the book and added it to the already teetering pile on the bench beside her.

“I'm Peter McNamara.” He held out a hand to her. “My father is a professor here. We met at the Independence Day party you attended with your aunt.” His smile stretched wider. “It's lovely to see you again.”

Warmth bloomed in Brianna's cheeks at the undisguised interest on Mr. McNamara's face.

“I'm on my way home myself,” he said. “May I offer you a ride? My motorcar is parked right around the corner.”

Brianna blinked, not sure what to make of this friendly young man. Though tempted to accept a ride, she didn't feel comfortable getting in a vehicle with a man she barely knew.

“I appreciate your offer, Mr. McNamara, but I'll be fine on the streetcar.”

He glanced at the pile of books beside her. “You shouldn't have to carry that load all the way home. Please, I'd be honored to help Miss O'Leary's niece. Besides, my father would have my head if I let you walk.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Do you know where my aunt lives?”

“I sure do. We've been to dinner there several times over the
years. After my mother passed away, your aunt made it a point to have my father and I over more often. I think she feared we poor bachelors couldn't possibly put a decent meal together.”

Brianna had to laugh at the image he created, and his grin made him seem like a young boy. If he and his father were friends of her aunt, she supposed he was safe enough. “Very well, Mr. McNamara. I would be grateful for a ride if it's not too far out of your way.”

“Not at all. You wait here. I'll be back in a jiffy. And please call me Peter.”

Ten minutes later, with the books safely stowed in the rumble seat, Peter guided the open motorcar down the busy city streets. He chatted about his courses at Columbia and his part-time job at the bookstore, as well as his father's long career as an educator. Brianna was grateful for the ride—and for the fact that she didn't have to add much to the conversation.

Soon they pulled up to the curb in front of Aunt Fiona's brownstone. Peter stopped the car and set the brake, then jumped out his side of the car. He came around to open her door for her and lent a hand as she stepped out onto the walkway. The curtain at her aunt's parlor window fluttered. Brianna gave an inward sigh of relief. Aunt Fiona would be out any minute to greet them. Not that Peter wasn't a charming companion, but Brianna longed to go inside and put her feet up.

“Let me help you with these books, and I'll say a quick hello to your aunt before I leave.”

“Thank you so much for the ride. I didn't realize how tired I was.”

Peter bent over the back of the car to retrieve her packages. When he straightened with his arms full, he gave her a nervous stare. “If I'm not being too bold, Miss O'Leary, may I ask if you're free for dinner tomorrow night?”

“I'm afraid she's busy.” Heavy footsteps thudded down the cement stairs from Aunt Fiona's front door.

Brianna whirled to see Gil's scowling face behind her. A rush of heat flooded her cheeks, as though she'd been caught in a secret tryst. “Gil. What are you doing here?”

Her brain tried to make sense of his unexpected presence. Why would he come to the city in the middle of the week when she would be coming home at the week's end?

“I came to see you, of course.” His gaze never left Peter.

Alarm rushed through her as the memory of the night her father ended up in the hospital came roaring back. “Is something wrong at home?”

“Nothing's wrong.” Gil's terse words hung in the air.

As if sensing the tension swirling around them like the fall leaves on the pavement, Peter juggled the books to one arm and extended his free hand. “I'm Peter McNamara, a friend of the family.”

Gil ignored the hand. “I'm Gilbert Whelan, a
very
good friend of Brianna's.” The challenge in his voice was unmistakable.

Brianna glared at Gil. “A friend who's being extremely rude at the moment. Peter offered me a ride home. He doesn't deserve your bad attitude.”

“Seems to me he's offering you more than a ride.”

A flush darkened Peter's high cheekbones as he turned his attention to Brianna. “I'm very sorry if I overstepped in any way.”

She laid a hand on his arm. “Not at all. Thank you again for your help.”

“My pleasure. I'll take these inside for you.” He dashed up the stairs with the stack of books and returned seconds later. “Please give my best to your aunt. I hope to see you again soon.”

Despite the temper building steam inside her, Brianna managed a bright smile for him. “I'm sure you will.”

He gave a brief nod in Gil's direction before hopping into the driver's seat.

As soon as his car roared away, Brianna marched up the steps into the house. Without looking back, she pulled off her hat and
gloves and slapped them on the hall table. The sharp slam of the door told her Gil had followed her inside. Her hands shook with anger that had little to do with Gil's rudeness to Peter and more to do with the resentment that had built up over the last few weeks.

She whirled to face him, hands on her hips. “How dare you embarrass me like that, Gilbert Whelan. The poor man was only being kind.”

His eyes darkened to navy. “That
poor man
was ogling you like an entrée on a menu.” He pressed forward, his expression thunderous. “Is that what you meant by wanting to experience college life? You want to see other men?”

She tilted her chin at him in a dare. “Dating other less pig-headed men sounds like a fine idea.”

She braced herself for a burst of Gil's temper. Instead, a shuttered look descended on his face, one of sorrow.

He pressed his lips together into a firm line and stepped back. “I can see this was a bad idea.” Without further explanation, he turned and strode out the door.

Baffled, Brianna fought for equilibrium. She rushed outside and called after his retreating back. “Gil, why did you come?”

He paused to look over his shoulder, then shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn't matter anymore.”

Without realizing where he was headed, Gil ended up on Fifth Avenue in front of St. Patrick's Cathedral. He climbed the stairs to the double set of wooden doors and tried the latch, not certain if the building would be open on a Wednesday afternoon. The handle gave way under his fingers. Removing his hat, he stepped into the cool, dark interior and drew a deep breath into his lungs to settle his system.

His eyes adjusted slowly to the dim interior, while the soothing smell of candle wax and sandalwood soap flooded his
senses. He pushed his cap into his jacket pocket, his fingers brushing the small, square package hidden there. Another wave of regret swamped him. He'd come to ask Brianna out to dinner, where he'd planned to propose, but seeing her with that dandy in the fancy automobile had short-circuited the wiring in his brain. All his good intentions had vanished in a black cloud of distrust.

Pushing aside his frustration, Gil moved into the main area of the church. The soft glow of votive candles cast a soothing aura over the vast space. Several people dotted the pews on either side of the long center aisle, heads bent in prayer. Gil took a seat in one of the back pews, hoping that the peace of the sanctuary would soothe his troubled spirit.

He'd behaved badly. He didn't need Brianna's furious reaction to tell him that. He'd allowed jealousy to flare like a lit match and overtake all common sense. The numerous lectures he'd given Bree about trust and jealousy flew to mind. What kind of hypocrite was he?

He bent his head over his knees and ran his fingers through his hair.

Lord, I need Your help. What should I
do now?

He sat in the hushed interior, hoping to hear the still, small voice of God offering wisdom. Last Sunday in St. Rita's, Gil had been certain God's nudging had been leading him here. Had he totally misread His intention?

A spasm of pain gripped Gil's chest. He couldn't imagine his life without Brianna. More than anything, he wanted her for his wife.

What about
what she wants?

The words whispered through his thoughts, causing him to jolt on the hard wooden pew. Was that it? Had Brianna changed her mind about him? Did she want someone like Peter McNamara, an intellectual who could discuss literature and philosophy?

Or perhaps she'd decided not to marry at all. To become a career woman like her Aunt Fiona.

Had he ever really asked Brianna what she wanted for her future? Or had he simply assumed that she would fall in line with his plans for their lives?

“I didn't realize you expected me to
give up my dream for yours.”
Brianna's bitter accusation stung his memory. The truth slammed into him with the force of a lightning bolt. He
had
expected her to give up her dream. When she'd offered to help him achieve his goal, he'd assumed she would abandon the idea of going to college.

With a surge of remorse, Gil fell to his knees on the hard kneeler. He had put his own selfish wishes before the woman he loved. Worse yet, he'd put his own desires before God's will for his life.

He lowered his head over his clasped hands.
Forgive me, Lord, for my
selfishness. Show me what You would have me do. Help
me to do the right thing—the unselfish thing—for
Brianna, and help me to become the man You want
me to be. A man worthy of her and of
You.

Gil stayed on his knees until his thigh muscles ached. At last, he rose and faced the altar at the front of the church. A soft prism of light illuminated the area. A sense of love and gratitude invaded Gil's heart. He inhaled a full clean breath and donned his hat.

With a sure and certain knowledge of what he needed to do, Gil left the sanctuary of the cathedral.