dark road home

7/28/2019 Dark Road Home

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E d g E o f f r E E d o m , B o o k T w o

Drk roD Hom

N o v

HDg

5



© 2013 b Elizb Lig

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Bn Hos Pbliss is ivision o Bk Pblising Go, Gn Ris, Micign

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Lib o Congss Cloging-in-Pblicion DLig, Elizb.

Dk o o / Elizb Lig.

gs c. — (Eg o o ; Book To)

S: “Hn b ngos nis n b b os lov,

cn An n Eogn, 19 cn Iis iigns in N Yok, ogiv

ons o s n ln o s gin?”—Povi b blis.

ISBN 978-0-7642-1040-2 (bk.)

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Cov sign b Kocl Pson & Associs, Inc., Minnolis, Minnso

Ao is sn b McGgo Li, Inc.

13 14 15 16 17 18 19 7 6 5 4 3 2 1



To Dylan . . . and all those like him

searching for a way home.



7

Proog

The Celt’s long strides sliced through the mist rising rom

oo. Lik vs og sil n oll o

his legs. Overhead, gray clouds squeezed out one at, icy

raindrop that missed the brim o his brown derby and landed

i sl on n o is nos. H sls i i bck o is n.

A ing oning o c is ol oo.

B bon nx bn l is sinion— os

no, lgn b no sling, nsl on coic ic

o armland. His eet devoured the remaining distance, carry-

ing him to a wide staircase with stone steps and a curving

bnis.His gi on l-nl lking cn ign s

li i o sik cing s o ok oos. A scon

knock, the doors parted and a pert housekeeper draped in

blck o o oo ok o.

“Cn I l o, si?”

“T s o is os, is in?”

H bo li. “A, si, b M. McClo os no

k visios is o—”

He cut the words rom her mouth with a sharp glare. Voice



Dr k r o D H om

8

low, he lited the cane and touched the handle to his orehead.

“Tll i T Cl s co i bsinss o iscss.”

Her rm chin dropped a nger’s span. She lowered hervoic n sok is n ciosl. “T Cl?”

Ah, good. An appropriate amount o ear. He nodded.

“That’s what I said. Now, you will etch him or me, aye?

Dinn . Yo nsn ning?”

Es i, s no, ing g o c. “A,

si.”

“Goo.” H lo cn o gins oo,n oion s o oo on o ll.

“Is lo?”

Agin s no.

“I’ll i . Go on i o no.”

In ns s il n s sis. H ollo

suit, the tails o his overcoat apping, and swept through the

ll ino lo. T on s sfcinl co. Sol no k i iing long.

In, ns o nl clock onl c o-

cs bo oo bin i on i

a whoosh. Biting back a smile, The Celt turned rom the

c .

He and Brion McCleod had never met, but The Celt made

i is bsinss o kno bo n o o—i sngsn knsss. McClo s iin, bis n lo,

with a quick temper and perpetual scowl. He loomed in the en-

trance, his untucked shirt drooping sloppily over his trousers.

“Who are you, and what do you mean rightening my sta

l o ?”

Arrogant ool. His identity was a well-guarded secret.

W o ns McClo, n ol b bo

nigll.

The Celt savored the name on his tongue, anticipated how



l i zabe th u d wi

9

the speaking o it would rip the sel-assurance rom the lout’s

bullish shoulders. “Lucy McCleod . . . your niece . . . is alive.”

H col los s n olling og n’sbin, l s c ov is cks s i s o-

css. Finll, McClo’s o on n g lik

bss on ook. “W- i o s?”

Ah, disbelie mingled with dread. “Lucy McCleod,” he

. “Dg o Ss n Al McClo. Sis

n Bigi. Ns son ili?”

“O course they do. He was my brother—his wie andciln, il.”

“Then you will be relieved to know that one o your amily,

ls cil, is liv n ll.”

“Yo v oo o is?”

McCleod spoke slowly, ormed each word careully. The

n ol b n s k in g o ok. “Wol I

v co i I in’?”To his credit, McCleod collected himsel quickly. He strode

o oo, clos i ig, n n n on is l n

n o lc. His bl s, so l s o los

g, no, n isl og is

barrel chest until he stood nearly as tall as The Celt. “Forgive

me. Your claim has set me back, or certain. I indeed the

ns b , I ol b os ls. B o no vlion, I s insis o ll o o kno o

i n oo o v s is o o cli.”

“Pleased?” The Celt scratched his chin. “Not the sentiment

I xc o’ l n o ln o Lc’s xisnc,

i sks s .”

Aye, that was subtle enough. McCleod was measuring

i, sggling o gg kn, n o kn i.

As i o con is, McClo ln o, lg vin

oing on is nck.



Dr k r o D H om

10

“Wo o?”

He shrugged and unwound a long woolen scar rom

around his neck. “Some questions are better let unanswered,aye? Sufcient or you to know that I am someone with a very

long, v gs o iso.”

The Adam’s apple in McCleod’s neck bobbed, and his

eyes, still gauging, swept The Celt rom head to toe. “And

s o o i ? W ill in s bog o

o oos?”

Lving , T Cl cicl clbck s-, is cn gging oo i is l oo, ing

with his right. “I have a proposition or you, Brion McCleod,

one that could prove mutually protable, I think, considering

ic i b.”

McCleod dragged his ngers through his hair, looking

sibl isg, js s T Cl o. Ps

ol is bn ig ll os s go. H so conn sk. Pi ls c ll. H’ ln

ll nog.

McCleod’s hand cut through the air. “I dinna ken your

ning. Sk cl, n. W is i o n o ?”

The Celt lowered himsel to the settee and olded both

hands atop his cane. “Your question is ill-spoken. Better rst

o sk I cn o o o.”McClo’s bos o ks coss is inkl o-

. “A? An is , ?”

He took his time answering, relishing the look o dread

that kindled in McCleod’s ace as he listened. “Nine years

ago, a bairn came into my care. A bonnie enough lass, though

rightened and scarred. A re, I think it was, that claimed

o n sis b s . H , o cos,

i s li in so so o ing ccin. A . . .

that’s it. I my gures are correct”—he tilted his chin and



l i zabe th u d wi

11

n o con—“ ol k no qi nin-

n. A I ig?”

McCleod swallowed, then opened his mouth to take abreath. “You are mistaken. Whoever this lass is, she is not

Lc McClo. M nic is .”

The Celt pinned McCleod with an unblinking stare. “Is

she now? And would you be willing to stake your name, your

ln”— oo i is cn—“is os on

cin?”

McCleod eased toward a writing desk next to the window.No doubt he had a weapon o some sort hidden in its drawers.

T Cl sig n soo. “Killing os o no goo.

Yo nic ill sill b liv n o o g o cli

inheritance, assuming she doesn’t ruin your reputation rst—

v obling conc i soon o o oliicl s-

iions, no?” H l os sink in bo loing is

voic o js bov is. “Onl I cn ll o sis n o o n bo ns.”

H qik n bo, sing s gl in

McClo’s s i isnc o is icing ngs o

sk . H bog cn , nning is l

ov is soo lng nil i sl on noc js blo

nl.

“Well? Do you care to hear my proposition or shall I beon ?”

For a sliver o a second he thought he’d guessed wrong, that

McClo ol c o n is sc ol

b oil b n nicbl Iisn. B n McClo’s

sols sl. His n ll o is si. H n o

lc n snk ono ci oosi s.

“Where is she?” he rasped through tight lips. “Where is

Lc McClo?”

The Celt smiled. The lass’s name was no longer McCleod,



Dr k r o D H om

12

or Lucy or that matter, but that inormation would come

l. Fo no, on bi o i i. “Aic. Yo

nic is liv n ll n living in Aic.”A scowl took shape on McCleod’s ace. “America is a broad

lc. I ss i b noing o i ic ill cos .”

Finll l os bin is visi. Ling si is

co n cn, T Cl n o is lc on s.

H n Bion McClo c o iscss.

Mc o iscss, in.



13

1

Sometimes, in the unguarded moments just beore she woke,

Ana imagined she could once again eel the ames searing

s.

She dispelled the ery images in two rapid blinks, but

the bitter scent o smoke coiling through her singed hairmade her heart race. She lited her hand, holding her breath

until her ngers closed around strong, healthy curls. Sag-

ging ino illo i li, s cln sok-

i ino lngs.

No pain. No blinding, scorching heat that baked her insides

i c bning b—js s s i.

T blnks o sols s s s in b o vo i s l lls o-

i sll c osbs. Cis cog ni, no

kn b soo o slli b s, glo in oonlig

sing o oo-o-ciling inos.

A cok lg bbbl o o, ol ning

in qi oo. Rcing on, s cls covl

n i o cin. S sn’ in bning cog. S

was in Amelia Matheson’s boardinghouse on Ashberry Street

in N Yok, o villg in Iln s g



Dr k r o D H om

14

. An kning il sn ss cosing on

her back was the wind outside her window, not a child’s voice

ling o l s s olss o giv.H ngs sook s s i c o in

atop her dresser to light the oil lamp next to her bed. The

match sputtered and then sparked to lie, even that eeble

cing ncoobl gins , ck

skin on An’s ns. S li l qickl n v

c o.

A pocket watch lay next to a book o poems on her bedsidebl. An i on is li, icing s o

in oi cl oosi c c.

Fo n.

Dawn was still hours away, but she’d get no more sleep this

nig. Siging vil, s cs covs si n c

o oo i os.

“A!”Shivering, she drew them back, wrapped the blanket around

sl, n li l o bl n scoo o

b. O oo, s C’s oo—

Meg’s room, she corrected silently. Cara and Rourke no lon-

ger lived at the boardinghouse. They owned a beautiul home

across town close to Rourke’s ofce. Breda, too, was gone,

ov in i il in n o osk n cook.She crept past Meg’s room beore descending the stairs

n ining on ll o lib. T oo on

i js oc, n cnl ick o bl n-

est the window. Ana lingered on the threshold, her ngers

cl bo gs o ksi ob.

Cling o, s k insi. “Anon in ?”

Tillie’s head appeared around a tall wing chair, her un-

bon k i bling coss . “An? W

o oing k n bo is o?”



l i zabe th u d wi

15

An ss ino oo, lving l on

sk n oo. “I col sk s o o.”

Tillie shrugged and disappeared behind the chair. Mindulo bning bigl in lc, An ski

hearth and dropped into another chair a satisactory distance

o blz.

Small, petite Tillie looked even more waiike with her

legs drawn up beneath her nightdress and her long tresses

splayed about her shoulders. Ana held up a corner o her

blnk. “Col?”Tilli cc o i gl no. Wi js

sll bi o ngling ng o s blnk

over them both, a dip in the middle where it spanned the

o cis.

Once the room returned to stillness, Ana turned her at-

tention to the crackling re. Not liking how it whispered,

s siv n look Tilli. “Ho long v o bnk?”

“An o. Mb o.”

“B s?”

Tilli no.

An snk ino ci. “M oo.”

The re popped, spitting a burst o sparks up the chimney.

Tillie slipped rom her seat, grabbed a poker and proddedthe logs into a pile, then adjusted the screen to keep stray

ss o scing.

Ana released the tension rom her shoulders and smiled

og gloo in. “Tnk o.”

Rubbing her hands over her arms, Tillie nodded and scram-

bl bck o s. “Hv o lns o is S?”

An sgg. Ss il, so o lis

o osol cos, s no lns.

Tillie hugged her blanket-draped knees, her teeth working



Dr k r o D H om

16

boo li n bo n in on. “Mg s

inking,” s si ls.

“Abo?”“The shelter at Our Lady o Deliverance. Father Ed runs it.”

“I kno lc,” An si, oing i no.

“Mg ss ov o on living , so

o sick, o nning o bs n in s n

o lc o i.” H s gl s s is lock

o i on n on on ng. “A lo o

sil lon in ol n looking o s n li.”An sil inlgnl. “T b ig oic o is

hour o the morning, don’t you think? Wouldn’t that be some-

ing b iscss n ’ bo o l?”

Tillie’s gaze, so direct as to be piercing, astened onto Ana.

S l ing insi cs—siil o ncoo-

able pricking o conscience she used to eel as a lass ater

s’ sn i in conssionl. “So. Go on.”“I’ inking I’ lik o l, b voln n o o

so I lv illin n on kns.”

“Doing what?” Ana’s heart raced aster with each word

Tilli .

She lited her hand in a wave. “Dishes, laundry, cooking . . .

whatever they need.” Reaching across the span between their

o cis, s gs An’s ngs igl. “I’ lik o oco i . Will o?”

There it was—the question she’d been dreading. Ana pulled

n n jk o ci. T blnk i-

l o oo, b ni s no Tilli bo icking

i . An ski n i o ino.

“W is i l o sk o, Tilli? W no Ali,

o Mg? Yo kno I . . . I o no n cc.”

“I’ll no b sking o o.” H lis bnc in o s

she uncrossed her legs and joined Ana at the window. “These



l i zabe th u d wi

17

women need our help. So what i the shelter be housed in

a church? It’s a building, Ana. Nothing more. Surely you

oln’ in ling no n gin.”Tilli in’ . . . coln’ . . . nsn. An ol

she? It wasn’t as though Ana had ever bothered to explain

her reluctance about attending Sunday services. She rested

her hand against the rosted windowpane, letting the cool

glass soothe her scarred esh, and closed her eyes. A moment

l, Tilli’s ngs sqz sol.

“An, son o s o n ss i s, o on’ s oo insi cc . . .”

S si n An siv.

Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Is it because o the night-

s?”

Searing, screaming ames. Her mother’s pale ace. Droned

s lling o lis o clss is—

Ana jerked her eyes open and wrenched rom Tillie’s grasp.“I-It’s complicated, Tillie.” With each step across the library

oo s voi ing o clos o,

but it wasn’t ar enough. Never ar enough to take her beyond

is cl c.

Tillie snagged her arm, orcing Ana to meet her gaze.

“Complicated or no, have you never wondered why, ater

ll s s, sill n o? Mb i o lk oF E—”

Anger straightened her spine, sped her breathing. “I know

why they still haunt me, Tillie. Because what happened to my

amily was horrible—something no child should ever have to

live through. And aterward I was alone! No priest, no . . .

God o o ns s. Js sng is

i o on si n sco o n ong

osn ils o o. Hv o n i i ls

lik o b lon?”



Dr k r o D H om

18

Pin si in s lling o in’s s,

cing c os o An’s ong. A i-

scion, Tilli’s ns ng i, s ols o nigss.

Ana took one step toward her and stopped, horried by her

arrogance and sel-pity. “I’m so sorry, Tillie. I didna mean—”

Tilli gv lo sig n l ns sli o sis.

“W bo v ings n o l go o, An. Mb n-

ing i o l no—b i’ll l s ov on. M

Bon . . . ol no v n o sn liining o i n o cil. Ni ol o o o

sis n o looking bck n issing .”

B s ov on . . . n’ s? An ni ocn, in

act. Ana swallowed the lump in her throat and pulled her

ns clos o bo, iing scs bn coss

s. “Mb o’ ig. I’ll . . . ink on i.”

“Pois?”Though her insides trembled and her knees elt weak, Ana

sil. “A.”

Tillie’s hand, so small compared to Ana’s, moved in a pat.

“I’ll stop by there tomorrow—” she glanced out the window,

sk js bgn o glo lig ink—“o

actually, ater I leave the milliner shop, and see what work

v o b on.”“Tillie,” Ana warned, grabbing her wrist beore she could

s o o c, “I si I’ ink on i.”

Thankully her eyes were brimming not with tears but

i in. “I kno o i, i.”

“I may decide that volunteering at the shelter is not or me.”

“O cos.”

An on, slvs o nigss billoing ov

her arms as she propped her sts on her hips. “And you wilna

b isoin i I ci no o go?”



l i zabe th u d wi

19

Tillie leaned orward and pressed a kiss to Ana’s cheek.

“Goo nig, i. I’ll s o in oning.”

An gs o ino o ligning sk.“I’s oning l.”

“A, b i ’ going o ok x os sl,

we’d best try to wrangle a ew more winks beore breakast.”

“Tilli—” An os, oo l.

S il, nigss siling bo ls s s

darted rom the library. In seconds, her tapping ootsteps

o silnc on sis.Moving o ino, An sig in

lngs, b oing csl clo on glss.

Tilli s ig bo ling go, b so ings g

in oo , n ning cc . . . s n’ on

since she was a young lass. True, Tillie carried a grievous bur-

den o her own, and Ana had no desire to see her riend pained

. B sol i i s xos onso is o i s cos o b ngis in silnc?

Both sts curled, she banged the library window so hard the

glss l. S oln’ o i. No Tilli si

o o s l, An ol nv gin s oo insi

cc.

Ev.

y y y

T sn king ov ooos o Cnl S i

at Eoghan’s eyelids, dragging him rom his liquor-induced

slumber on tearing, tenacious ngers. Groaning, he rolled

o is soc ono is bck, gll bcoing

o col, ss ’ lin kl og

nig.

Blinking, , , . . . s iv-cov lls

o gling silv sl ic sk lik so.



Dr k r o D H om

20

A cc?

A isiv sno bls o is cck lis. Tis o

b Kiln’s oing, i is is sns o o.H ock o siing osiion, king on o bc

is obbing bn is ls. Noll voi

the taverns, avoided the danger o dulled senses, but last

nig . . .

Last night he’d hoped tipping back a ew mugs would

soten the Fenians’ resolve against him, maybe even convince

Kilarny to remember Ireland and better times—when all that o i o s ling Fnins civ

Iis innnc o Engln. . . .

An n sn’ vi s io.

His n sli o cov is cing j. A ls n’

kill i. T s soing.

Behind him, the door creaked open, ollowed by a decidedly

inin gs. “W—? F E, co qick!”The woman’s strident voice hit him broadside. Eoghan

sc is s s n clc is gins v

o n oning.

“F E!”

Tising, Eogn li ling n o o-

c on. “M, ls.”

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. She blew out a“humph” and olded her ample orearms over her black-clad

boso. “M n is Sis M, l, no .”

“Sister Mary, then,” Eoghan said, stiing another snort as

n bck o cling is .

“A o nk?”

“W?”

H boo on ss s s cicl o sn

in on o i. Lning on, s bc ns gins

her hips and looked him square in the eyes. “I said—” she



l i zabe th u d wi

21

paused, punctuating her next words with an ever sharper

gl—“v . . . o . . . bn . . . inking!”

“Aye!” Eoghan exclaimed, hoping the admission mightsomehow convince her to stop talking, then grimaced. Shout-

ing s nil b i.

She straightened, disapproval etched in the creases ringing

sn lis. “H. B son o gbl n

ink, ls si.”

“An ni on v ing o cil o Go,”

voic l.T osili l o Sis M’s sols s

than butter on a hot biscuit. “Father Ed . . . o course . . .

i’s js . . .”

S oin Eogn, ng vling i gz

ov sins on is si. “Wll, s o osl.”

A lighter step scraped the stairs behind Eoghan, and then a

kin-c n i i b in sq inront o him, his hand extended. “Hello, lad. Welcome to Our

L o Dlivnc. M n is E M—F

E o isions.”

“Oh . . . en Hamilton,” Eoghan said, changing the oath

he’d been about to mutter into a strangled pronunciation

o is n n s is’s bos li. H ook

Father Ed’s hand and gave it a reluctant shake, wincing as ovn sn s in cging og is ls.

“Looks like you’ve had quite a night.” He pointed at

Eoghan’s jaw, which by the eel o it bore a rather ugly bruise.

“To i ill.”

“An o sl o , on cc ss?”

Eogn no, no col b.

“Lck o in’ z o ,” Sis M ci,

on ning. “I’s col o Ocob.”

“Come now, Sister. A kind word never broke anyone’s



Dr k r o D H om

22

mouth.” Father Ed rose to his eet and oered his hand to help

Eoghan. “Besides, weren’t you about to head or the market?”

T ill- nn gv gn jiggl olls on is. “A, I s.”

“I doubt Sister Agnes will be pleased i she’s orced to wait

on oos o s.”

Wov Sis Agns s, nion o n

was enough to drive the rown rom Sister Mary’s lips. Sway-

ing in his shoes, Eoghan bit back a groan. Another nun worse

n is on?Sis M’s bobb onc, ic, n n s b-

reled down the steps. “I’ll be back in an hour,” she called

ov sol, ons bo s is on

the wrought-iron ence surrounding the church. Bolted to

ings s oon sign bo n Our Lady

of Deliverance in llo ls.

Sqining o k o sll os scoll bn n, Eogn ln o n nl ol on

ss.

F E cg i b lbo. “Es , l.” H

is n ginn. “No sns ing o

biss on o ngg, o no o o co.”

Eoghan tugged on the tattered hem o his tweed jacket,

s ing is cks. “No, I gss no.” H cl iso. “Wll, i s nic o o n . . . .” H o-

ion in icion Sis M kn.

F E sil kinl.

“I gss I sol b going no.” H n o ov on

ss.

Father Ed stretched his hand toward the church door. “Are

o ng?”

“W?”

“I inn sos o’v cnc o bk s?”



l i zabe th u d wi

23

Eoghan’s stomach rumbled in response. In act, he’d missed

o n js bks. H in’ kno kin o

cook Sister Agnes might be, but the thought o a hearty meat-n-oo s s nog o k is o . H

sov is ns ino is ocks, in b lin

clng o is ngnils o is lig.

H lo is gz, sising isl i is ons.

“I o no v n on.”

Or clothes, or a place to stay.

F E cl Eogn on sol. “Ac, n ’islck o o I v ln o ok ning o b on

around the church. You’re a godsend, or sure and or certain.”

“I’m anything but a godsend, Father.” Again, Eoghan was

startled by his own honesty. What was it about this priest that

l o i bo col vn ink?

Father Ed shrugged and climbed the steps to push open

oo. “I sos ins o b sn, , l? In meantime, what say you come inside? We’ll work out the

details o your employment ater we’ve put some meat in

o bll.”

Eogn lick is lis, los bon son b

the oer to staunch the quivering in his limbs brought on

b ng.

“Well?” Father Ed tipped his head toward the entrance.“Yo coing?”

Toing is bck, Eogn no is s n

stared at the steeple piercing the sky. So, it was a church. What

i i i i n ning nog ssnnc o c

i og no ?

“A, I’ coing.” F gging, ollo F E

o oo. A on l, i on ing so

’ nv o gin.

H s oo insi cc.



24

2

Ana clung to the wrought-iron bars o the ence surrounding

Our Lady o Deliverance. The smell o new paint taunted

her nose, and resh oil glistened rom the hooks pinning

cc sign o nc, so i no long sqk n

o b bisk in, lik o. Blo n o cc bn in ather edward murphy in cis,

sig ls.

“ . . . have you never wondered why, after all these years,

they still haunt you? Maybe if you talked to Father Ed . . .”

Ana clutched the bars tighter, the name rolling on her

tongue. Tillie thought Father Ed could help. But to get to

him, one had to pass through a pair o orbidding oak doors.“You all right, Ana?” Meg’s ace, plain though it was,

son i kinnss s s on bs An.

“Yo look lik o sllo ol bisci.”

Ana grimaced and uncurled her ngers rom the ence,

on b on. In, bks i si lik son in

stomach. “I don’t eel well is all. Maybe we should come

bck no i.”

“An lv Tilli o ok in ll lon?” Mg cg

Ana by the hand and tugged her around the ence to the



l i zabe th u d wi

25

ss. “W coln’. No ving s’s on o s

so’s col sn sl.” S gv oss

o s jn cls o boncing. “Bsis,’is onl on S g o, no on o .”

“Aye, and I still do not ken how she managed to wran-

gle that much,” Ana grumbled, her toes curling inside her

boots as she climbed the rst step and stopped. Overhead,

the steeple jabbed the sky like an accusing nger, pointing

o On s jc.

Who rejected me, she reminded hersel angrily, giving vento sging oions i so o oo.

Hicing ski, An cn ining ss.

“Co on n, l’s g is ov n on.”

She didn’t wait or Meg, but gave the door a hearty beating

with her st. Her bravado ed when the door opened a crack

n i o b s look ov o o o.

“No need to pound. The doors are not locked.” The crackin, ll los ll b sc blck bi. I s-

l cisl s nn ing i jk b ov

sol. “I o’ in n o lc o s, sl is

on bck.”

H in An’s cks. “A lc o—? No, ’. I

n, Sis . . . ’. I . . . is, . . .” S sgg

o l n gs kl Mg.The nun’s eyes grew narrower with each ustered word.

Scoling, s ol s n boo oo.

“Wll?”

To Ana’s relie, Meg stepped around her and stretched

o n. “I’s , Sis M. Mgn Ril.” Wi

n s An’s . “An is is in, An

Kvng. W’ o voln in sl.”

T on’s c nso o o o lig in

n insn. H volinos slvs billo s s ng



Dr k r o D H om

26

s on Mg in n nsisic g. “Mgn Ril? I

is you! Why in heaven’s name didn’t you say so? Come in,

co in.” S s oo on n s o on si,jabbering and clucking. “What a delight to see you again,

lss. Di F E kno o coin’?”

Meg shook her head and linked her arm with the nun’s

as they walked down the wide center aisle between pews,

cing lik ol ins.

An ollo o slol, voiing looking ss

o sins on on ll n Vigin M other. Overhead, the vaulted ceiling snagged the sound o

ooss n l bck on on , k-

ing son nnll v n lo. S sllo

hard and kept moving. Though the polished pews she passed

invi oc, s k ngs ck igl ino

ols o ski.

Finally she reached the ront o the church, and there hang-ing bov l s gling gol ccix.

An oz, inn o oo bo Jg. O i

own accord, her eyes drited upward, rom the pierced eet to

inicl cv b n bon, o osc

ns.

S sck in qiving b, bcing o con-

nion s s o o .Instead she elt only sorrow as she gazed at the Man’s

carved ace, at the beads o blood and sweat that poured

o is con on His bo—

“An?”

S jk o son o Mg’s voic.

“Yo coing?”

Both she and Sister Mary eyed her intently, Meg with a

quizzical bent to her smile, the nun with a wider, more know-

ing gin.



l i zabe th u d wi

27

An bb s-sok ls on ski. “A,

I’ coing.” Rsising g o s on ls glnc

ccix, s sci o oo Mg n sis i. “So.”

T nn gv sisingl gnl o An’s sol.

“No n o ologiz, lss. Go’s os is js lc o

those in search o something. Maybe later you can come back

into the sanctuary by yoursel. Sit awhile and pray, i you like.”

“No,” she said, quickly enough and with enough vehe-

nc o invi sis glnc. Tog o sdry, she swallowed and orced a smile. “We came to work.

’Tis bo i go s, isn’ ig, Mg?”

In, s sons n olliing Tilli o

coming, but since no one had asked, she saw no reason to

s o. Sqing sols, An s og

door into a wide hall ramed on both sides with paintings

o vios sizs. R n k in gs ic inthem, she kept her ocus on the large room that opened o the

n. C voics , n b i s coss

sol, so o iscoo is, og

is, s noic, s no o b sn.

“Ana, there you are!” Tillie rushed around a table laden

with savory smelling breakast ood and grasped both o

An’s ns l. “Tnk o o coing.”“Tnk Mg.” An i on g-

ing o ll on Sis M’s . “I i n’ o ,

I ig no v i s g.”

Tillie laughed, the merry sound drowned amongst the

chatter o the shelter residents. The clamor grew as a ew

o on cogniz Mg n ov o son

i gl lcos.

Tillie tilted her head to whisper in Ana’s ear, “You’re here.

T’s ll s.”



Dr k r o D H om

28

Gbbing An’s n, s sn n l bck o

sving lin. T on oking o k

room, and within moments Ana had a spoon in her handand was busily dishing out hearty helpings o bread and ried

potatoes. Ater breakast, she and Meg lugged buckets o

water or the dishes while Tillie maneuvered a broom around

lg kicn. An Sis Agns ing cln,

o og lss lkiv n Sis M, s likbl

nog.

“Here,” Sister Agnes said, jamming a plate piled high withletovers under Ana’s nose. “Take that to the hired man round

bck.” S jbb b o n xi n o

cc kicn. “Yo’ll n i in sbl ning o

cos il F E is gon.”

Her wits cut rom under her, Ana stared at the plate clutched

in ngs. “F E is . . . gon?”

“Wn o o isln—Ellis, is. H os oi o i, sll onc o ic k o cck on -

gs o sl.”

“Rgs?”

One eye closed in a wink. “That’s what Father Ed calls ’em.”

Ana’s heart sank. So much or speaking with the priest.

T s o ng. “I s.”

“Go on,” Sister Agnes urged with a wave o her apron.“The ood’s cold enough as it is—no sense dallying about

while it sprouts icicles. He’s a good-looking lad, tall and lanky.

Gos b D. I o on’ so i sig, cll o

o i, ig?” S An’s ck bo gbbing

b sols n sinning o oo. “T’s

a good lass. And I hope you don’t mind waiting or Derry

o l bo o co bck insi. Ois

he’ll leave it, and one o them wooden-headed cows will

likl ss i o bis.”



l i zabe th u d wi

29

Wait. Cows. Bits.

The orders rattled like pebbles inside Ana’s head. Though

s no i s s going o o o s sscing, ls sc coss kicn, o oo,

n on ss o sbl.

Across a broad courtyard, one hal o two livery doors

gaped, spilling the scent o animals and resh hay into the air.

An sni gingl, n ok insi n ook

look around. It was warmer inside the livery, but not unpleas-

antly so. On a cold winter day, she imagined it could be quitelsn son b cos n , n so, zz lbs.

S s ino liv’s i csss. In sll

closs o oo, co lo ging, n ,

sovl sc oon oo. “D-D?”

Her voice caused a stir amongst the hens, pecking corn

rom the hay strewn haphazardly around the entrance. Clawed

scbling ov on oon bos cconi apping o wings or a moment beore returning the stable to

liv qi. An si l o on n n sov

oo i o l in o lig.

Ding b, s ng sk “Hllo?”

“Don .”

Mi on o o slls, il o ino

s clo bov sll ll. An bn cii-cll n n i bs o sil oo o i

and cha she could manage with one hand. “Are you Derry?”

“A, ’s . Lsis, ’s siss cll .

Wo’s sking?”

A g voic, kno o nvosnss o in An’s

belly. She swallowed and tried to sound cheery, though her

in oo lik slings o so n oo.

“I bog o bks.”

“Bks? I in’ sk o n bks.”



Dr k r o D H om

30

A o ov sll ll. Evn o is is-

tance, Ana elt hersel snared by the glittering hazel gaze

shooting out rom beneath a ragged tweed cap. The man’sace was pleasant enough, but gaunt, the cheekbones too

n, s i ’ onl js cov o lng illnss.

S lo s n no. “Sis Agns sn i.”

Instead o leaving the stall, the man merely leaned a shoul-

gins ll. “T’s bnc n oo .

Lv i. I’ll n I nis cking.”

Ana glanced at the rickety bench. Like the rest o the place,it was covered in dust and bits o hay. She shook her head

and held up the plate. “I brought no napkin to cover the

oo. I’s likl o g os nsvo sinkling o i i

o on’ i no.”

The stubborn man only grunted and proceeded to cross

is s. “L gss . . . Sis Agns ol o o i on

i so o col n l.”An sil sgg n l l ig. Tog

i bn s sinc s’ bn o cc, s sill sn’

kn on i o ling il insi on—o n on, s

s cs.

A cckl i o n’s o n bl

insis. H sign n n sn—o s

no other way to describe his gait—out o the stall to thennc An i.

“I’ll k .”

A bs o is ngs, An insnl v gz

n ov bck s. Mb ’ . Mb s

ast eater and she could nish this unpleasant task and return

o kicn—

“U . . .”

She could lit her eyes no urther than the clet on his chin.

“A?”



l i zabe th u d wi

31

He hesitated and shued rom oot to oot. When next

sok, is on son o soing lss n

blonging o b. “I . . . . . . on’ sos . . .”“Is soing ong?”

He cleared his throat. “Have you by chance got a ork

in in o slv?”

“A ok?” An scnn l o cooling oos n

eggs, and the hearty crust o bread. No ork. Had she thought

o bing noing bsis oo?

“Unlss o n o o i ns.”“I’ so, I . . .”

“Nv in.”

T n cl long ngs on slic o o-

tato and brought it to his mouth. Transxed, Ana’s gaze

ollo.

“There you are.” His hazel eyes twinkling, he shrugged and

o losi gin. “So bo js n.Mcking slls ns o on in ol oo.”

Heat anned rom Ana’s cheeks, down her neck, to her toes.

There was something startlingly amiliar about the man’s

sil, b n o lc i, s cls ns

bin bck n n o go.

“Wi. I i no n o bss o.”

A oc lc on , An iil si-ened. “I’m not embarrassed,” she snapped, directing a pointed

gl lbo. Wn ls is ol, s s.

“I sil v o cos o b ning.”

“I s,” si, ing o os in sc nn

s on isscl. Aing inj, gnis

insl i sik.

An b n og sll o ng. “I’

no so ol s F E’s co, b ni I scoolgil

o b so sil bss.”



Dr k r o D H om

32

“O course you’re not.” He quirked an eyebrow and brought

no sliv o oo o is lis. “Ol, I n,”

bo oing oo ino is o.“O bss,” An insis, cossing s.

He chewed thoughtully, then rowned. “Not so certain

on oin.”

“Excs ?”

“One would think you’d be inclined to stay i you were

l s n s ll .”

An gi , lizing s s i llthe man—Derry—she corrected mentally, had done nothing

o insi sc . Hllss o i, s lo ono

bnc, s n ll. “Fin n, I’ll i. Sis b

o si o n.”

S cs scocing glnc o bn oo o

steeple. This was all His ault—His way o punishing her or

bking vo n sing oo insi cc.With new direction or her anger, Ana ignored Derry as

cli s so nx o on bnc n o-

c o ol is bks.

“I on bl I c n.”

“Ws Englis o soing ls?” An sk.

Derry grinned wickedly, swiped his sleeve across his mouth,

and swallowed. “Sorry about that—orgot me manners. I saidI on’ bliv I cg o n.”

“Kvng.”

“Kvng?” His bo li, s i is voic.

“Miss.” Ana jutted her chin away rom his wheedling

gz. S’ sn is kin bo—vilis ks i lil

or no regard or a lady, though she had to admit to a certain

on o sis sing i lo in os o

osi.

“Well, Miss Kavanagh, it’s a pleasure to make your ac-



l i zabe th u d wi

33

qinnc.” H s si is l, bb is ls on is

os lgs, n o is n.

Ana hesitated. He had not yet seen her scars—at least, shein’ ink so, b i s cc is nsk . . .

Burying her ngers in the olds o her skirt, she dipped

. “A ls.”

“Ac . . . nns gin. I’ i i’s bn oo long

since I’ve enjoyed eminine company.” He rose and swept the

c o is . “N’s—”

“D. I kno,” An in.H gg is ng. “T’s Mr. D.”

An glnc i, bls ing cks

sn in is zl s. H s ocking !

She jumped to her eet. Plate or no, she reused to remain in

his presence a second longer. “Well, Mr. Derry, it has been—”

the lie died on her lips—“interesting,” she improvised. “How-

ever, I believe I’m needed inside. Please see that you don’tog o n l o Sis Agns.”

She started to motion, caught hersel, and clasped both

ns ii. “Goo .”

“B—”

Thankully, Ana did not trip as she scurried out o the

sbl, coss , n bck o cc.

“Wait,” the voice behind her called. “It was a jest only. I’mno ll cll D. M n is—”

Ana slammed the door, cutting o the rest o the man’s

sc. W i ink s c is n s?

H s i n, n s’ o i oo.

T s ll.

Bcs Sis Agns sk o.

An . . .

T qiv, blss ling in cs ling long

s, Tilli, n Mg g i ings n l



Dr k r o D H om

34

cc. Lik living ing, i ogg ss o oo,

on silk, ll o boingos. Evn

, s on sl -ss o sk oo ning zl gz.

Enough of that, An onis s s ng clok

on o o ooks insi boingos oo. I

no inc o o n s, o is snc

skn so. S sq sols n c

down the hall, past the parlor, and toward the kitchen to

help with dinner. Ater all, she had no intention o everlaying eyes on him again, because doing so would mean

returning to the church. And that was something she reused

o n gin.

Ev.

y y y

The Celt watched rom his carriage window as threeong on sci ss o Ali Mson’s

boardinghouse. They were all attractive in their way, but

the tallest one, the one with riotous curls spilling down

her back . . . she had caught his eye. At the top step she

sck o on n n on oo i n k

twist—unusual when compared to her otherwise graceul

ovns.He settled back against the velvet seat and rapped his cane

on the roo o the carriage, sending it into jolting motion.

Aye, that was the lass. She’d grown into quite a beauty. It

was unortunate that he’d have to use her, considering all

s’ bn og.

He icked a piece o ash rom his sleeve, annoyed that

here in New York, as in Dublin, there was no escaping the

i n soo o ci.

Innocent as the girl was, however, there really was no other



l i zabe th u d wi

35

solution. He needed Brion McCleod. Lucky or him, McCleod

n An Kvng.

He stared out the window, admiring the turning oliage on o o gin oks s n og sck i. In ssnc,

n bo n An.

T js n .



36

3

Eoghan muttered to himsel as he speared a pitchork o resh

n lobb i ino sll ’ sn vios o

cking. Wsn’ lik i o k o l o isl

on such short acquaintance. Then again, he hadn’t asked Sis Agns o sn gil o liv is bks, scill

no sli o gil i noos bon s on

like a wounded puppy’s when he snapped at her. And her

ns . . .

H jbb icok ino no on o n

ipped it into the stall. He hadn’t wanted breakast at all.

What he’d wanted was to be allowed to work o the ood’ cons bo n n b on is . I i

weren’t or the wages Father Ed had promised, enough to

sustain him long enough to come up with a new plan or

ingratiating himsel with the Fenians, he’d have been gone

i snis.

Sis i o on sll oo, Eogn

leaned the pitchork against the wall, then rested his back next

o i. T job, noll n s on, kn i os o

the day, but that was due in part to the condition o the barn.



l i zabe th u d wi

37

On top o the general labor to clean it, he’d repaired and

ll bins, sock lo i , n n

no on o o, b sll oos.For sure and or certain, Father Ed had not exaggerated

n ’ ol Eogn cc s in n o n-

n. B no ’ nis in bn, ok

isl o o oo n loging?

He grimaced as he latched the door and swung or the

church steps. Aye, and had it not been but yesterday that he’d

bn lcn o cc job in s lc?

That was beore he sampled Sister Agnes’s cooking. He

sighed with pleasure as the warm, yeasty ragrance o baking

b g i n n kicn. Ac, b

scn bog bck ois o is ciloo—bo ’

bn in b bl n bloo.

H ook b, is o ing ogo inn, b bo col k on s o in-

ing room, Sister Mary appeared and shoved a broom into

is ns.

H bo lo in glo. “Is c I s clinging

o boos?”

Eogn bck o oo ono ss. “C? No.

Js bi o s is ll.” H ov boo lzil ovthe tops o his boots. “I had no intention o sullying your

oo. I ll inn o cln bo I n looking o

o.”

S no s. “Fo ?”

“A, o ll o bonni sil o v, n

an angel you are or always sneaking me one o Sister Agnes’s

olls n s’s no looking.”

Growling, Sister Mary jerked the broom rom Eoghan’s

ns n lc i in no clos bo soing o



Dr k r o D H om

38

o cooling b. S lck on o cn n

o i ino is g l. “T, n g on i o

now, beore Sister Agnes catches me eeding you like somes .”

Eogn si lg i bi o ,

oll. P lig l ov is ong, los s ls-

able as the verbal sparring he’d enjoyed earlier with Miss

Kvng. Ps Sis M col ll i o s s.

Ins o lving, Eogn sl ono ig sool.

“I nis i is o bn.”

“Goo. F E ill b gl o i.” S gbb

pail and miniature at-head shovel, then went to squat beore

the stove. Reaching in, she scraped the ashes into the pail.

“It’s been in need o repair or a long time. Father Ed is a

, b ’s olss i .”

“Lucky or him, there isn’t much call or one in the pulpit.”“Dns on o o sk,” Sis M si, o

cving in gin.

Eoghan answered with his own grin. He liked this sassy

old nun, who oten spoke her mind yet consistently ound

ways to temper her words with humor. Plus she was absent o

gil lg os on. T s n innocnc

bo , sinci o ic no ob xlin bi— og o col i.

“Me da would argue a hammer upside my head might have

on bi o goo,” si ll. H s no

bi o b ino is o n c ogll.

Sister Mary shrugged. Finished scraping out the ashes,

she jammed the spade into the pail and rose. Hopping o

is sool, Eogn ook il o n ci i o-

side to pour on the compost pile. Mixed with manure and

straw, it would make good ertilizer and keep the church’s



l i zabe th u d wi

39

ll cos o zing. Wn n, Sis M

replenished the wood in the stove and was anning a small

re to lie. Satised the blaze had taken hold, she shut theoo n n s ns on on.

She tipped her head toward the uneaten hal o his roll.

“Finis n n co join in snc. I’v go

so ok in I n o o s o.”

The sanctuary? He’d already spent a day and a hal avoid-

ing lc. H j s o oll ino is o

and ollowed Sister Mary out o the kitchen. At least hen’ ok isl o o job.

She pointed to a short ight o steps that wound along one

wall and nished at the pulpit. “Them stairs creak so loud on

Sn oning, ’ nog o k isions.

Tink o cn o ning o x ?”

Eoghan laughed and hooked his thumbs in his pockets.

“A, I ckon I cn.”“An inos.” S oin svl l

glass panes. “A couple o them have cracked, and more

n o bk i on’ o soing bo lks

in os sls.” S siv n n l ngs on

her arms. “The way the wind whistles through here in winter,

on ol ink oling svics in n icbox. ’Tis

icl no on s oz o .” Jging b bis o o collcing on sills, s

s likl ig. Eogn bs ics o oo n

nodded. “Might take me a couple o days, but I can patch

o o.”

Sister Mary’s rosy cheeks lited in a smile beore she turned

to amble back toward the kitchen. “Don’t you ret about

o long i ks o nis. Yo js s o i is oo

stays nice and toasty come the rst snowall. I’ll take care

o s.”



Dr k r o D H om

40

T is’s b gns n on sos s

through Eoghan’s brain as he trailed her to the door. “By ‘the

s,’ I k i o n F E?”She snorted. “The man worries too much. Never have seen

God ail to provide a nickel when we need it. He sent you,

didn’t He? And just when we thought the place would all

on on o s.” Psing i on n on knob,

her stern tone dissolved into a chuckle. “To think I almost

tossed ya back into the street. ’Twould have been like theblin n ning is nos Jss.”

The words pricked his spirit. He wasn’t accustomed to

being thought o as a godsend, and this made twice in almost

as many days. He caught her sleeve beore she could disappear

ino ll. “Sis M, o o v on?”

S i ciosl. “A, l. W’s on o in?”

“W ? W no on o n o cc? SlGo col v sn on o , o F E col v

sk o i l.”

H bon s, ic s ’ og look b,

sotened with compassion. “Who can claim to know the mind

o Go, l? No I. I onl kno H sn o o

os, n gl I H on i.”“And the women—the ones who come to volunteer—does

H sn , oo?”

The abric o her habit rustled sotly as she rested her back

gins oo. F b col, c look kin,

vn nglic. “I sos so. W o o sk?”

Unsure how to answer, he shrugged. She motioned toward

, n s on n sli ov o k oo. Hsinl,Eogn cli so nx o . I bn s sinc

oon lco is bcksi. Evn so,



l i zabe th u d wi

41

ling s ol cl, lc soning i,

inviing.

“I met a girl today,” he began. “She’s young. Pretty. But ns sc.”

The puzzlement cleared rom Sister Mary’s brow. “Ah, that

on. A, I , oo.”

“Hs s bn bo?”

“No I cn b. Mg bog , I ink.”

“Mg?”

“Mgn Ril. S s i s n s s c oAic.”

“And the other? With the . . .” He wiggled his ngers.

“W’s n?”

Sister Mary paused, and her lips parted in a knowing grin.

“S i no ll ?”

No, n ’ sn b o noon ing

o gss. H c ov is nck o is s. “I’ i I v l i oo s ission o sl.”

“No o.” H cks qiv i i s s ln

ov o b is sol. “Tink o o n I s .”

He rolled his eyes. “I’d rather not. The bruises are still

s.”

“Lucky or you, Father Ed appeared beore I could add

o .”He rubbed his knuckles over his scalp, thinking o the time

or two when he’d witnessed Sister Mary wielding a heavy

oon soon. “Lck in.”

W i o oc s s c o is

sol. “W i o o?”

“To k ng?”

S no.

Eogn scc is l. “I’ no s, xcl.”

His beuddlement unleashed her laughter. The cheerul



Dr k r o D H om

42

sound echoed rom the raters, then reached down and tickled

is on sns o o.

“Wll no, n in’ o i?” s si bngasps. “Women all tangled up in their emotions and men

chasing ater them trying to gure them all out.” She laughed

some more and then nally managed to run her ngers under

s o s oo o s. “Ac, i nil I ll

F E.”

“I’ o in’,” Eogn si, sobing. “I’v -

bss sl nog is concn.” H li coll o is boo si n gic. His on si

bn oo blooi n on o sv.

“Ah, lad. You don’t need to be embarrassed with Father

E. Dsi is ls, I’v nv kin, o n-

sning n.”

“Sill, I’ no v o xlin o s lss o

I’v onl onc ng o c nc,” Eognsi i sno.

“An is s’s on?”

H s il inkl s look . H’ s no,

but why then had a bonnie lass with a bashul smile, who

i ns in ols o ski n s og

sn’ looking, cons is ogs?

The teasing melted rom Sister Mary’s ace. “Her nameis An Kvng.”

Ana. H n silnl o isl.

“S ss lik s lss. Livs in boingos on

Ashberry Street with Meg and another o our volunteers,

Tilli McG.”

Eogn oz. “Wi . . . Di o s Asb S?”

S no. “Ali Mson ons i. S’s on o o

isions n no kin sol. I n . . .”

Sister Mary continued on, but he’d stopped listening.



l i zabe th u d wi

43

Bracing both hands on the back o the pew, he pulled to

is n coss o ino, is boos ing on

the hardwood oor. A boardinghouse. Ashberry Street. Itcouldn’t be the same place and yet . . . it had to be. The

on?

H il, cing o Sis M i-snnc. “Wo

i o s ns lc?”

S blink. “Yo n Ali?”

He gave an impatient nod. “Her. What’s her last name

gin?”“It’s Matheson.” Sister Mary’s brows lowered as she pushed

rom the pew and stood. “What’s wrong, lad? What have I

si?”

“Noing. Yo’v si noing.”

Fists balled, Eoghan clenched his jaw. It wasn’t Sister Mary’s

ault, ater all. She couldn’t know the days and weeks he’d

spent waiting, hoping—ollowing a trail that had led himto Amelia Matheson’s door, behind which he’d thought to

obin c ls n on ins . . .

Bitterness washed over his tongue. He hadn’t ound peace.

No inss o conciliion. Asb S o on

ing n on ing onl.

Bl.

y y y

Goning lik on in lbo, ck o Etruria

pitched orward and back, then heaved rom side to side.

Knckls i, Bion clos is s n gs g

o is bnk.

Bls is innl bo! To ks n ’ n l is

b o ssicknss. Hn’ s ois ’ b

making landall soon? He’d already missed the appointed

meeting with The Celt when he arrived in New York. Yet



Dr k r o D H om

44

l, is insis s oil n oss s s osi

is ool.

Clutching the edges o his shirt together tightly, he swungis o ck n os on sking lgs. T ll il

to meet him. He leaned against it grateully and inched

o oo, ignoing is cbin — il-in bg

o a man whom The Celt insisted accompany him—who

huddled under his blankets as sick as Brion was. At least

the moans had ceased sometime during the night. That was

soing.

“Steward!” Brion threw the door open with a crash. “Where

o?”

“Hv . . . ln?” T lo s i o coss

the cabin. A weak rattling cough ollowed, the sound o which

sc Bion’s nvs.

“Steward!” he bellowed again, closing his ears to the youngman’s pathetic whimpering. I it hadn’t been or the act that

his presence added some pleasant amenities to the trip, Brion

ig v ic i ovbo s go.

A i-co s ov on ssg, lgs

o k o bing bonc o ll o ll. Wc-

ing i Bion’s soc oll.

“Yo cll o , si?”Slloing gins bning bck o is o,

Bion no. “Ho long bo c ln?”

“Should be any day now.” The steward placed his hand on

Bion’s sol n sqz s og o g i bck

o is bnk. “Min i I l o, si?”

Brion growled and shrugged rom his grasp. “You said

’ol b ‘n no’ s.”

“T is , si, b is so s slo o ssg.”

As i o ov is oin, si sll bn Bion’s



l i zabe th u d wi

45

eet and just as quickly dropped away, leaving him weak-

kn n nsos.

“There now,” the steward urged, “you see? It can’t behelped. Best to wait out the remainder o this voyage in

o bnk lik o , ov on .” H gs

to the lad’s still orm. “I’ll check on you both beore dinner,

ig?”

W col s? Bion sgg coss cbin n

o ono lnk sbsi o b bo

next wave hit. Moving as though to tuck him under the sheets,the steward grabbed the blankets and reached or Brion’s eet.

Brion motioned him away with a snarl and a glare that sliced

through his snide English demeanor. “See that you inorm

on ’ in sig o ln.”

T sg sil . “Will o.”

“An k ss.” Bion oin o o oo

is cbin l noc. “I’s bginning o sink.”“O cos, si,” s si, bning o iv

tray and then pausing at the young man’s bedside beore

ci i o oo. “W bo o, si? Is

ning I cn g o o?”

The whelp said nothing. Brion snorted. Now he slept,

king i k l nig i is incssn

moaning. He tossed onto his side and yanked the coverov is .

“Mr. Whitham, sir? Can I get you a glass o water, perhaps

cs o b o l sl o soc?”

“Heaven’s sake, man! Leave him be. He’s resting is all,”

Bion so o is si o cbin.

His curiosity piqued by the silence that ollowed, Brion

ok o o n covs. Sill blncing in

on n, s clc con o Wi’s s

i o, is s on n is o g.



Dr k r o D H om

46

Bion gg isl o si. “W is i? Sl o’v

sn n sl bo. W o sning ging

lik so innl s?”“Si . . . ong Wi . . . M. Wi is . . .”

Bion o is gz o ong n’s l c, is

wide, glassy eyes, and the cracked lips where bits o oam

bgn o collc. H li on con o is o in

isgs. “W’s ong i i? Is ?”

Dropping the tray, the steward backed rom the cabin,

is s iing o Wi o Bion s i soos s lig. “Si, I s sk no lv is

cabin, leastwise until I can etch the ship’s doctor and . . .

n v ’i k look .”

Fnn o blok’s o Englis ccn bok on

n s nvos, o ign. Bion scol. “W?

W bsinss v I i i? I’ oion sick is ll, nc-

cso o iing s.”“No, sir. It isn’t seasickness.” Grasping the knob, the stew-

gv nk n n sbl ino ssg.

“I not seasickness, then what?” Brion growled, beginning

o l ns ov s’s s . H

aside the covers and leaned over the side o the bed. “Steward,

g bck n ll is going on. An bo

Wi? Yo cn’ lv i !”Riving k o is ock, s i o

lock in cbin oo, n bc isl. “Pls, si.

Wi . I’ll b bck sol.”

Brion eyed the key clutched in the steward’s hand. “You’re

locking in? W? Fo os?”

“I on’ b gon long, I s. Js going o c oc-

o, n b cin.”

“W?”

“Bcs . . . I’ i . . .”



l i zabe th u d wi

“A?”

The door slammed shut, and the key scraped in the lock. A

moment later, the steward’s mued voice drited through thecracks. “I’m sorry, sir, but your cabin mate, Mr. Whitham . . .

I’ i ’s i o col.”

dark road home

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