Page 39 of Calling on the Matchmaker
Finola’s fingers shook as she picked up the sheet and peeled it open to reveal Enya’s handwriting. Quickly she moved to the window and thrust aside the drapery, letting light spill over the note, only a few lines long.
“Bryan has asked meto marry him. Da and Mam have refused to considerhis offer and have left me with no choice but to run away with him. Please don’t worry aboutme. I’ll finally be happy. Love, Enya.”
Finola sagged, and she groped for the edge of the vanity, knocking over several bottles of perfume before managing to lower herself to the cushioned bench.
As she stared at the letter, the ache inside swelled rapidly, and tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Enya, how could you?”
Finola had met Bryan only once when she and Enya had been shopping one afternoon after Christmas. Enya had dragged her into the store where he worked as a clerk and introduced her to him. He’d been dashing and handsome and witty. And he’d most definitely been enamored with Enya—like most men. At the time, Finola hadn’t noticed anything about him that had caused her to be worried, but the courtship—if it could even be called that—had been short.
Even though Enya had made no secret over how frustrated she was with Da and Mam, Finola had never guessed her sister would defy them to this extent. It was one thing to express herself and plead with Da and Mam to listen, but it was another to reject everything they wanted and run away from home.
“If Da and Mam have concerns about Bryan Haynes, thenyou need to listen to them. They’re older and wiser and only want the best for your future.” As soon as the whispered words had settled in the quiet of the room, Finola closed her eyes against the rebuke. Wasn’t that what her parents wanted for her too? The best for her future?
Finola shook her head and blinked back the tears. Aye, she needed to listen to her parents—and respect them. And aye, they were older and wiser and only wanted the best for her too. But her situation was different from Enya’s. Wasn’t it?
She reread Enya’s note several more times before pushing herself back to her feet. As much as she hated to be the one to deliver the terrible news to Da and Mam, she had to do so while there was still time to go after Enya and stop her.
As she crossed to the door and reached for her robe, she had the urge to go to Riley and tell him too. He was Saint Riley. Surely he would know what to do. More than that, she had the feeling he would listen and offer comfort. And at the moment, that was what she needed more than anything else.
14
Her parents were devastated to read Enya’s letter and learn she’d run away. Her da convened in his study with his investigators. A short while later the fellows hurried out to find Enya and bring her back.
Then her da and mam waited in the study for news. After dressing, Finola joined them.
As the morning wore on without any updates, a visitor might have suspected that they’d received word Enya had died. Everyone, including the rest of her siblings, waited gravely for one of the investigators to return with a livid Enya in tow.
By midday, Da finally shoved up from his chair, his red hair mussed and his eyes filled with desperation. “Ach, I cannot sit around a single second longer.” He strode out of the room with Kiernan hurrying after him, and several moments later the back door slammed behind them.
Finola had been holding Mam’s hand, but she stood and paced to the window, familiar shame and guilt weighing heavily upon her. Although her da and mam hadn’t said so, she suspected they were thinking she should have paid better attention and kept Enya from leaving. And they were right. If anyonecould have stopped Enya, she should have been the one since they shared a room.
“Why don’t I go to the convent and let the Sisters know what happened?” She also needed to inform them she wouldn’t be going with them into the Kerry Patch to aid the immigrants—although she could send one of the servants to deliver the message in her stead.
Her mam was holding her head in her hands and didn’t respond.
“They often hear news on their visits,” Finola continued. “And even if they don’t hear anything, they can ask around.”
Mam gave an almost imperceptible nod, and Finola took that as permission to leave. Within minutes she was outside bundled in her coat and on her way to the Visitation Convent. The January day was typical for St. Louis, the temperature near to freezing and a frigid breeze blowing from the north, bringing clouds and the possibility of precipitation.
Usually she had her driver take her to the convent, laden with pots of soup and day-old bread from the various bakeries that donated the food. But her da didn’t mind her walking the two blocks, which she did from time to time.
When she’d first started going with the Sisters, they’d only been visiting in the Kerry Patch once a week. But over recent months, as the conditions for the immigrants became more crowded, they’d increased their trips to three days.
As the unassuming brick building came into view, Finola picked up her pace. Visitation Convent wasn’t large, nothing more than an old home that had been converted into a living space for the Sisters. It sat next to the seminary for young ladies, the one Finola had attended until she’d turned fourteen.
Even now, the small private school was in session, with a few of the educated nuns devoting themselves to teaching, while the others spent their days doing charity work.
Finola raced up the stone stairway to the convent entrance,knocked softly, and then entered. The warmth and coziness of the home enveloped her as it always did whenever she stepped inside.
Standing in the front entry hallway, four sisters were in the process of donning capes and gloves and bonnets over their habits. At the sight of her, they halted.
“Finola, dear.” Sister Anne, the oldest of the women, with a plump face and double chin, spoke first. “We didn’t expect you today, dear.”
“We heard about your sister,” whispered Sister Catherine, a middle-aged nun who spoke in hushed tones. “And we’ve been praying ever since the news came our way.”
“Thank you.” Finola loved the prayerful example the Sisters provided, which was another reason why she wanted to join the convent—so she could spend more time in prayer and learn to deny herself worldly pleasures.
“Finola?” The Mother Superior stepped out of the library and into the hallway. Although a tiny woman, she exuded great strength and purpose, directing those under her supervision with a measure of firmness and kindness.
