Page 38 of Calling on the Matchmaker
Before she could ask him more, he and the lad stepped outside.
“Be careful, Riley.” Father O’Kirwin was frowning.
“I’ll be fine,” Riley called over his shoulder before the door closed and shut him from their view.
Father O’Kirwin shook his head, and worry creased his forehead.“Last time Riley split up a fight between two gangs, he came back with a black eye, busted lip, and three cracked ribs.”
A strange sense of fear crowded up into Finola’s throat. Saint Riley might be a champion to everyone in St. Louis, but he was putting himself in harm’s way each time he rushed to the rescue—just as he had when he’d dashed into the street to save her.
Finola could only stare through the window into the night, a chill working its way up her spine. How could he plunge headlong into the most dangerous situations so impetuously?
She was the opposite. She preferred to use caution, liked everything to be ordered. Then she could maintain a measure of control. Perhaps that’s why living in the convent appealed to her so much. The days, the hours, sometimes even the minutes were carefully controlled. There were very few surprises.
Which meant fewer chances to make more mistakes. Mistakes that were deadly...
With another shiver, she started toward the door. As much as she was growing to admire Riley Rafferty, he was too wild, too reckless, too rash—all qualities that were at odds with the life she wanted to lead.
She hadn’t figured out a way to drive him away yet. But she would soon enough.
13
Finola’s first waking thought was that Riley’s lips were on hers again—soft and warm and delicious.
But in the next instant as her eyes popped open to the big bed she shared with Enya, she released a tight breath. No, not a breath of disappointment that she wasn’t actually kissing Riley again. Instead, the tight breath was one of relief, wasn’t it?
She shifted to her back and stared up at the speckled plaster ceiling. At the rate she kept reviewing the kiss, she would never forget about it. She was only searing it into her memory for the present age and in the one to come.
She lifted her pillow, clamped it over her face, and released a groan, hoping she wouldn’t waken Enya. Thankfully, her sister was a heavy and late sleeper and rarely disturbed by the tossing and turning caused by the frequent nightmares of Ava.
At just the thought of the sweet, beautiful child, a baby’s wail arose inside Finola’s head, the familiar haunting one that taunted her for how careless, how irresponsible, and how selfish she’d been. Her mam’s words echoed the loudest of all, the words she’d screamed as she’d fallen to her knees beside her dead baby—“Finola, what haveyou done?”
“I’m sorry,” Finola whispered into her pillow as she had sooften over the years. She wasn’t sure if she was apologizing to Ava, to God, or to her mam. But she knew the apology would never be enough. Nothing would ever be enough to erase the tragedy and her guilt.
She pressed her hands to her ears to block out the wailing. But that never worked to ease the sound. It only continued to roll through her head in unending waves. No Hail Marys, no other prayers, no Scriptures, no songs, no reasoning ever helped.
There was only one thing that would end the torture....
She slipped to the edge of the bed, sat up, and silently prayed,I promise I’ll go to the convent and spend my life working to makeamends.
As the vow rose to heaven, the crying faded until blessed silence returned.
With a heavy sigh, she turned and let her sights drift over Enya....
Except Enya wasn’t in bed.
Finola’s pulse gave a startled jump.
Not only was Enya absent, but her side of the bed was smooth and unruffled, almost as if she hadn’t slept at all. That couldn’t be the case. Enya must have made her portion already—although, why would she do so today when she never bothered with it any other morning?
Several of Enya’s drawers in the tall chest were open, and the wardrobe door stood wide. But surely that only meant Enya had already awoken and gotten ready without disturbing her.
But no, that couldn’t be it either. There were plenty of nights when Finola didn’t hear her sister climb into bed beside her. But at the early hour, Finola was always a light sleeper and would have heard Enya leaving. Unless she’d been too distracted by her dreams of Riley this morning?
But even as she scrambled to make excuses for Enya’s absence, her heartbeat raced faster. Something wasn’t right. She could feel it deep inside.
As she scanned the room to make sense of where Enya was, a folded slip of paper on the vanity table caught Finola’s attention. She rose and padded across the room, the thick rug muting her steps but unable to soften the hard thudding in her chest.
The morning light coming in from the slits in the draperies showed that vanity table was half empty.... Enya’s comb and brush and jewelry and powders and perfumes were gone.
