Land of a Thousand Dreams (31 page)

“Morgan!”

Morgan's eyes snapped open, and then he saw it—her right hand moved! She reached out, slowly, and touched Small One's soft fur. The cat pressed her head into Finola's outstretched palm and began to purr.

Carefully, his hands trembling, Morgan braced the harp between the bed and the night table. Holding his breath, he wheeled closer, looking first at her face, then at her hand.

Finola's right hand went on stroking the cat gently. Ever so slowly, she extended her left, reaching—reaching for him.

Morgan inched his hand toward hers and touched her gently. Her fingers closed over his, and held.

Then her lips moved.
“MORGAN!”
she cried, her fingers gripping his hand like a vise.

It was no dream!
Finola had spoken, had called his name—
his name
!

Tears lodged in Morgan's throat, and he had difficulty answering her at first. “Aye,” he managed at last, his breath coming in short gasps. “I'm here, lass.”

The wide blue eyes locked on his face, and she whispered, “'Twas you…you were the Singer?”

“Aye,” he choked out, his heart rising up on a thundering wave of love and incredible relief. “You heard me, then? You heard me singing to you, Finola?”

She strained toward him. “I was afraid,” she whispered. “I was afraid to leave the lake….”

He stared at her, not understanding, aching to gather her into his arms, to hold her close, to reassure her…knowing it could not be. “Don't be afraid, lass,” he said softly. “You will stay here, with me. This will be your home. You need not be afraid any longer. Not now. Not ever.”

She nodded, gripping his hand even more tightly. Her eyes closed, fluttered open, then closed again. “Don't…stop singing, Morgan.”

Then, as if exhausted and utterly spent, she drifted off to sleep, his name still on her lips, her hand still clinging to his.

Somewhere inside him, in a safe, hidden place untouched by the world's tragedy and pain, “Finola's Song” swelled to a kind of anthem, rising to fill the emptiness of Morgan's heart.

18

Confrontation

So here is my desert and here am I
In the midst of it alone,
Silent and free as a hawk in the sky,
Unnoticed and unknown.

THOMAS MACDONAGH (1878–1916)

New York City
Christmas Eve

D
aniel went on ahead of his mother and Evan. He was to be at the Farmington's early, with his harp, to provide the wedding music. But first he intended to stop and have one last talk with Tierney.

One last
argument
with Tierney, he corrected himself, for more than likely that's what it would be.

Despite the festive cheer of Christmas that hung over the city of New York, despite his happiness for Uncle Mike and Miss Sara, Daniel brooded during most of the ferry ride over. These last weeks had been hectic with change: moving in with Evan and Mother; the resulting separation from Tierney; Uncle Mike's marriage; Morgan's news about his attempt to adopt an orphan girl, the starting up of his school in Dublin, the black West Indies man he had hired—Sandemon—and his mysterious new friend, Finola.

And throughout the United States, change was occurring almost as quickly. America had elected a new president—one Zachary Taylor. “Old Rough and Ready,” he was called. A peculiar man for the head of an entire country, Daniel thought, if the newspaper accounts could be believed. As a general in the Mexican War, the President-elect had worn old farm clothes, even a straw hat, into battle, and his legs were said to be so short he had to be given a leg-up by his orderly whenever he mounted a horse! But stranger still was the fact that this man, who was to head the entire government of the United States of America, had never even voted!

Far away, in a place called “California,” gold had been discovered, while here in the state of New York, women were holding conventions about an issue called “suffrage.” At the same time, antislavery organizations were holding conventions of their own, determined to free the black slaves in the South.

While all these events were no doubt of great importance to the country, Daniel's thoughts kept returning to the changes in his life, and in Tierney's—and, especially, in their friendship.

He hoped to find him at the flat. He would be alone, if he was there at all. Uncle Mike had already moved most of his things to the home of Miss Sara's grandmother, where they were going to be living after the wedding.

Daniel had moved
his
belongings to Brooklyn just a week ago. It had been difficult, making the break from Tierney and Uncle Mike. His stomach had been in knots for days before he moved out, and the final day of his move, he had all he could do to keep from blubbering like a babe.

He knew he would miss Uncle Mike something fierce, but he would miss Tierney even more. He already did.

He hated to think of Tierney living by himself in the flat. There would be no one to talk to—no one to
argue
with, Tierney would say. Daniel didn't think
he
could bear to be alone like that, not for days at a time. Tierney, however, vowed it would suit him just fine. He even boasted that he was looking forward to having no one about to nag him or give him grief about his comings and goings.

“You can't be serious,” he'd joked when Daniel voiced his concern. “It'll be grand! Don't take offense, Danny-Boy, but I doubt that I'll miss Da's grumbling or your snoring for very long at all!”

Patrick Walsh had offered him a coachman's cottage on his Staten Island estate, but Tierney had only made light of it to Daniel. “He may be my boss, but he'll not be my keeper as well! Blazes, I can't imagine having to endure that awful Isabel all the time!”

More than likely, Tierney meant every word he said. That being the case, Daniel supposed he should cease worrying about him.

For his own part, although the break was painful, it was something he felt he had to do. Mother wanted him with her. She and Evan had been after him for weeks to move to Brooklyn, and the truth was, now that he had made the break, he was glad. He and Evan got along just grand, his mother was obviously happy to have him about the house again—and it was fine being back with Little Tom and Johanna.

Still, he could not quite forget about Tierney, alone in the flat.

When Tierney opened the door, wearing only an undershirt and a pair of faded trousers, Daniel's heart sank. Obviously, he had no intention of going to the wedding.

“Well, look at the boyo, would you!” Tierney cracked in an exaggerated brogue. He made no move to step aside so Daniel could enter. “You're on the wrong side of town, dressed in your finery, I'm thinking. We don't often see the likes of you down here.”

Ignoring his sarcasm, Daniel pressed through the door. The apartment was dark, with only one small candle nickering on the kitchen table. A single empty glass sat on the table next to the candle, and the room was filled with a faintly pungent smell. A fleeting picture of his friend sitting alone in the dark room unnerved him. He couldn't help but question the wisdom of Uncle Mike's decision, to allow Tierney the use of the flat. Yet, what else was he to do? Tierney had been enraged by even the suggestion that he live with Uncle Mike and his new wife.

“I'd hoped we could talk.”

“I think not.” Tierney heaved the door shut, then turned to face Daniel. “I expect I know what you want to talk about, and we've already had that conversation, remember?”

“Tierney—”

“Save it, Danny! If you came here to rag me about the wedding, you're wasting your breath and my time.”

“Don't you
care
how you're hurting Uncle Mike? Doesn't it bother you at all, then?” Daniel hadn't intended things to heat up so quickly. He'd thought to talk with him in a reasonable way, try once more to make him see just how selfish he was being. Instead, Tierney was already in a temper, and Daniel feared he was close to losing his own.

“I'm the last thing the old man is thinking about tonight,” Tierney jeered, his face hard. “He won't even know I'm not there.”

“What's your point, Tierney?”

“What do you mean?” The ice-blue eyes narrowed, the mouth turned down.

“What do you think to prove by not going to your own father's wedding?” Daniel felt the blood rush to his head, but he had gone too far to stop now. Somehow he had to make Tierney
think
about what he was doing.

“You're wanting everyone to know you don't
approve,
is that it? But we already know! Or is it more that you're not willing to back down, even if you're
wrong?”

Tierney's chin shot up, and the eyes narrowed still more. “That'll do, Danny-Boy,” he said quietly. “That'll do.”

Daniel studied him for a moment. “Do you know,” he answered quietly, “that you sounded very much like Uncle Mike just now?”

Tierney made no reply; he just stood, arms crossed over his chest. Again Daniel thought of Uncle Mike. They were so much alike, Tierney and his da. So much alike…yet a world apart.

He softened. What was there about his mercurial friend, he wondered, that made it impossible to stay angry with him for more than a few moments at a time? “I didn't come to fight.”

“Then why
did
you come?”

“I had something to say. I'd hoped you'd listen.”

Tierney regarded him with a measuring look. “Have your say, then. I'm listening.” His voice was quiet, but his eyes remained unyielding.

Daniel swallowed, dug one hand in his pocket and looked at Tierney straight on. “Uncle Mike has already had his share of pain, it seems to me. It must have been a terrible time for him when your mother died.”

When Tierney's expression didn't change, Daniel faltered a little. Drawing a deep breath, he forced himself to go on. “But he did his best to be a good father to you. To give you a proper home and more than your share of affection. That couldn't have been easy. He must have been lonely many a time, but he did right by you, Tierney. You told me so yourself. He
always
did right by you.”

Tierney turned and walked to the window, looking out on the street below as if Daniel were no longer in the room.

“What I'm trying to say is…I don't think it should make a difference to you tonight, whether or not you like Sara Farmington or approve of the marriage. I just don't think any of that should matter. Not tonight.”

Tierney half turned to look at him. His eyes were still hard, but he didn't look quite so angry now.

“I think the only thing that should matter to you tonight is that Uncle Mike is your father, and you're his son. You may not always agree with his ways, and you may not approve of his choice in a wife. But he's still your
father,
Tierney, and he's done his best to be a
good
father. He's spent his life on you!”

Daniel stopped, clenching his fists at his sides. “I just think,” he choked out, “that you owe him one hour of respect for that. One hour, Tierney. That's all.”

Without waiting for a reply—without even looking at Tierney—Daniel lunged toward the door and bolted out.