Longing for Home (38 page)

“‘The Donegal Reel,’ now,” Thomas Dempsey instructed the musicians. “Follow Miss Macauley’s lead. And keep up—if you can.”

Katie set her instrument under her chin once more and began playing the tune from the beginning. The pennywhistle joined first, with the others taking it up over the lines that followed. She breathed a sigh of relief as the dancing began again and her efforts faded in with the others.

She remained among the musicians for several songs more, grateful they’d chosen tunes she knew. Seeing the joy that dancing or singing along to the music brought her neighbors made her smile. She’d learned to care for these people who’d been strangers to her not two months earlier.

Katie’s eyes fell on Tavish again and again. He didn’t dance with anyone but stood nearby, watching her with such a smile on his face as made her heart melt inside. She had to force her thoughts away from the kiss he’d given her hand and the all too vivid memory of his embrace but a few days earlier. Thinking on either moment would likely leave her too shaken even to play.

After a full half-hour, Katie’s fingers protested. She’d asked a lot of them during her time with the girls the night before. As the last strains of “The Little Beggarman” died out, she lowered her fiddle. She offered a quiet thank-you to the other musicians and made to step away.

“One more, Katie!” Seamus Kelly called out before she’d moved far. “Give us one more.”

“One more!” someone else shouted.

Katie looked to the musicians. She saw only smiles and encouragement. Perhaps she could play one more.

“Something fast or slow?” she asked.

Thomas Dempsey spoke for the lot. “Slow. Show ’em how a Donegal fiddler can play anything at all.”

Slow? The first song that always came to mind was “Ar Éirinn.” But she couldn’t play that tune without tears spilling from her eyes. She searched her mind for others that might do without breaking her to pieces.

She settled on “The Dear Irish Boy.” Within a measure or two, understanding and approval touched the faces of most gathered around. The plaintive tune was an old one and familiar.

Thomas Dempsey joined with his pennywhistle, but the others merely listened. Oddly enough, this time she didn’t long for the rest of the instruments. The simplicity of the duet added to the beauty of the song.

The air came to its close. Katie held her fiddle to her and mouthed a silent “Thank you” to Thomas Dempsey. He nodded in return.

“I’d say you broke everyone’s hearts with that one, Sweet Katie.”

She looked up at Tavish, suddenly at her side. “I haven’t played that tune in years. I can’t even say what brought it to mind.”

“Well, you’d best think of a few more. They’ll likely not let you come back next week unless you have your fiddle with you.” His usual teasing grin held a note of tenderness that went straight to Katie’s heart. He’d enjoyed her music, and that touched her deeply.

A tiny voice reached her ears in the very next moment. “Katie, that was the most beautiful song ever, ever!”

Katie spun about in shock. “Ivy Archer, what in heaven’s name are you doing here?”

Had the girl followed her? How had she not noticed the child? Ivy was too young to be out alone. She might have become lost or wandered off.

Katie lowered herself to Ivy’s level. “Listen to me, love. Your father’ll be out of his mind with worry. You ought not have—”

“But Pompah said we could come listen to your violin.”

As those words sunk in, Katie’s entire frame froze. “Your father’s here?”

Ivy nodded.

Katie lifted her eyes and glanced about the gathering. She didn’t need to look long. For the second time that night, the entire group had gone still and quiet. Until that moment she’d not even wondered why another song hadn’t begun.

There in the midst of the céilí
,
the most Irish thing that happened in Hope Springs, stood the one man who had sworn to avoid anything that even resembled taking sides.

Joseph Archer.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Tavish was not often at a loss for words. But Joseph Archer standing in the midst of a céilí was not a sight he was at all prepared for. The way Katie’s eyes lit up when she realized Joseph stood there wasn’t terribly comforting either.

“If everyone stares Joseph down like they are, he’ll turn tail and go.” Katie sounded decidedly displeased at the possibility.

“You can’t fault them for being a touch shocked,” Tavish answered. “Seeing anyone at a céilí who isn’t Irish is . . . Well, it’s never happened once in the ten years I’ve been here, I’ll tell you that much.” And Tavish suspected Joseph hadn’t come out of a sudden burning desire to study Irish culture.

Ivy tugged Katie in Joseph’s direction. Katie, in turn, tugged Tavish in that direction as well. He hadn’t been forgotten; that was promising. He kept at her side as the littlest Archer girl pulled her to the center of everyone’s attention.

“You’ve come to the céilí
,
then?” she said to Joseph.

“The girls wanted to hear you play.” He looked around at the gathering.

Everyone still watched him, likely as thrown by his appearance as Tavish was, though for decidedly different reasons.

He spoke to Tavish next. “I hope we aren’t ruining the party.”

You’re full ruining
my
party.
But Tavish shook his head. He knew Katie would want the Archers to enjoy themselves. ’Twas only his own jealousy that made him reluctant to welcome the first of their non-Irish neighbors to the weekly gatherings. “Everyone is welcome at a céilí.”

“Oh, Pompah!” Little Ivy still held Katie’s hand, even as she eyed the gathering with unmistakable eagerness. “This party smells so good!”

Katie smiled at that. How Tavish loved her smile. Perhaps it was the rarity of it.

“They’ve scones over on the table,” Katie told Ivy. “Have you tried one yet?”

Ivy’s eyes grew wide. She shook her head no.

“Do you mind if she has one, Joseph?”

Joseph.
How long had they been on a first-name basis? Tavish watched them both but saw nothing really beyond perhaps a friendship.

Joseph motioned his daughter on. “Go ahead, Ivy.”

She ran the moment the words left his mouth.

“But don’t take them all,” he called after her.

“A fine thing it is that you’ve come,” Katie said. “A fine thing.”

Tavish inched a bit closer to her, keeping a firm eye on Joseph Archer. He took some comfort in knowing Katie had not shown a preference for her employer. But then, she’d only shown the very beginnings of a preference for
him
the last time they were together.

“A person can’t help but love a céilí.” Katie looked around at the gathering before turning her gaze once more to Joseph Archer. “There are so many fine things to eat, and the music’ll make your heart dance inside you.”

“The music we’ve heard already has been . . .” Joseph’s voice trailed off, as he searched for the right words.

Tavish, for the first time that evening, felt some kinship with the man. How did one describe a talent like Katie’s? She surprised him at every turn.

“I wasn’t horrible, then?” Though Katie laughed as she posed the question, there was some uncertainty in her tone.

Tavish opened his mouth to heap well-deserved praise on her, but Joseph beat him to it. “After last night’s concert and this evening’s, I have to wonder what I’m doing having such a talented musician cleaning my kitchen.”

Last night’s concert? Katie played her music for him?
That thought sat in his mind about as peaceably as a summer storm.

She smiled hopefully. “Did you really think it was good?”

“Good?” Tavish shook his head at the inadequacy of the word she’d chosen. “I think you need to search out a bigger word than that.”

Joseph nodded. “I’ve attended concerts in the finest halls of New York and London, and what I have heard you play would have shamed most of those musicians and thoroughly impressed the rest.”

Tavish had always thought Joseph a reticent and ineloquent man. Yet, that compliment far outshone what he himself had managed. But then, he had never attended concerts in fine music halls nor heard any professional musicians play. He couldn’t offer a compliment like Joseph’s; he hadn’t Joseph’s history or privilege.

“I do wish my father could hear your words,” Katie said. True regret laced her tone. “He often despaired of me ever learning to play well.”

“Your father would not despair of it in the least if he had the pleasure of hearing you.” Joseph smiled in a way that did not strike Tavish as anything near indifferent.

Tavish set a light hand on Katie’s back, a gesture he knew was possessive but one he felt driven to make. He’d seen the very real hurt in her expression during her conversation with Joseph Archer a few days earlier. He’d seen her smile at the sight of Joseph there at the party. Her feelings weren’t entirely evident. But Joseph, at least, ought to know Tavish’s interest in Katie wasn’t casual.

“Are you certain we’re allowed to be here, Papa?” Emma asked. “We don’t usually . . .” Her eyes took in the crowd with obvious misgivings.

“Tavish,” Katie whispered, looking up at him. “Do you think Finbarr might be recruited to help with Miss Emma?”

“I’ll see to it.” He’d recruit the entire céilí to do her bidding if she wished it.

Ian’s Michael passed by in that moment, saving Tavish from having to actually leave Katie’s side. He motioned the boy over.

“Fetch Finbarr over, will you?” he whispered in the lad’s ear and received a nod in response.

He leaned in close to Katie once more. “Michael will fetch Finbarr,” he told her in a low voice.

The smile of gratitude she gave him lit up the entire night. A man would do a great many things to see a woman look at him in just that way.

“Anything else you’re needing, Sweet Katie? The moon, perhaps? A few stars? Just ask, and they’re yours.”

“All I need is for you to stick close by and keep me from panicking.”

Stick close by.
And she thought this a favor she need beg of him? He’d already planned to do just that all night.

“I rather feel like I’m hosting a dignified visitor and desperately hoping he’ll like Ireland.” Katie shook her head, apparently finding her own explanation rather lacking. “This isn’t even Ireland, and Joseph’s a neighbor, not—” Again she shook her head. “I fear I’m not making a great deal of sense.”

He took her hand in his. He felt the effect of that simple touch clear to his heart. “It made perfect sense, darlin’.”

Color touched her cheeks. An encouraging sign, that.

Joseph Archer’s eyes had stopped darting about the crowd and settled, as near as Tavish could tell, on Katie’s hand entwined in his. Tavish hadn’t intended to make an overt statement of his intentions but thought it best that Joseph knew where things stood.

An uncomfortable silence settled over them all. Katie seemed particularly worried about the newest arrivals, but she didn’t make any move to pull her hand from his. Joseph kept his eyes off the two of them. Emma glanced about in heavy uncertainty.

Into the awkward moment came Finbarr. “Michael says I’m to come see you, Tavish.”

“Aye. There’s someone here I thought you’d like seeing.” He motioned in the little girl’s direction.

A grin split Finbarr’s face in an instant. “Why, Emma! Have you come to join our party?”

She nodded shyly, her countenance pale except for deep spots of color on either cheek.

Step in, Finbarr.
Katie would be more at ease if she knew Emma was looked after.

“Would you like to come sit with my friends and me?” Finbarr offered. “The storytelling’s about to start. I think you’d enjoy hearing the tales.”

“May I, Papa?” She sounded near ready to beg.

Joseph gave Finbarr a stern look. “Are these stories proper?”

“They are, Mr. Archer. I promise you.”

“And you’ll keep an eye on her?”

Katie jumped into the questioning herself. “And won’t let her too near the fire?”

Tavish squeezed her fingers. He knew her history with fire and understood her caution.

“I promise you both,” Finbarr said. “I’d never let anything happen to Miss Emma. Not anything.”

“Please, Papa?”

Joseph gave her a brief smile and nodded.

Finbarr held his hand out to her. Emma’s eyes grew wide. Slowly, uncertainly, she slipped her small fingers into his larger hand. Tavish would have to remember to thank the lad after the céilí. He’d done a fine thing for Emma and Katie as well, whether he realized it or not.

Finbarr smiled at Katie. “Make sure one of these two asks you for a dance.”

Tavish grinned. There was another reason to thank Finbarr. Though Katie didn’t dance, and Tavish didn’t mean to ask her, he liked that the idea of it was planted in her mind.

“Maybe I’ll ask
you
for a dance,” Katie threw back. “What say you to that?”

“Not a chance of it.” Suddenly Finbarr had an Irish brogue as wide as their da’s. “I’ve a lass on me arm, in case ye hadn’t noted it. I mean to keep her there, not go dancin’ with the first strange woman what asks me.”