Page 85 of Calling on the Matchmaker
Riley smiled. “Depends on the definition ofidiotic.”
“You want to know the definition ofidiotic? Turning down the gift of a good woman. That’s idiotic.”
“Alright. I was an idiot. And I’ll ride back to the city and tellher so tonight.” Riley tried to fight against the sleep that was claiming him, but his eyes closed anyway.
“You’re in no condition to go anywhere tonight.” His dad’s voice seemed to fade into the distance. “Tomorrow.”
Yes, tomorrow the first thing he would do was ride to Finola’s home, fall on his knees before her, and beg her to give him one more chance.
He would just have to pray he wasn’t too late.
28
Finola slowed her steps as the Visitation Convent came into view. The simple brick building would soon become her home.
Her home.
The prospect didn’t send a ripple of excitement through her as it normally did. Maybe because Da hadn’t been himself since arriving home yesterday morning. Even this morn before he’d left to run errands, he’d seemed dismayed.
Aye, he was happy Enya had returned. His relief had been tangible. And perhaps because he’d gained back a daughter, he’d now have the strength he needed to finally let Finola go.
Whatever the case, he’d indicated that he intended to meet with the Mother Superior later today to begin discussing the terms for Finola’s entrance into the order. Of course, he’d spoken with Finola again last night about the matter over supper and encouraged her to reconsider her desire for convent life. Enya had been adamant that Finola shouldn’t go.
But in the end, Finola had done what she should have long ago—she gathered the courage to converse about it and asked them to respect her choice. Her voice wavered, her palms grew damp, and her heart raced the whole time she’d tried to explainthat she loved the convent and the Sisters and their life of service and prayer.
Enya had shaken her head. “You might think you love the Sisters and their life. But the truth is, you’re running into the convent so that you can run away from your problems.”
Finola hadn’t known how to respond.
When her da had cleared his throat, she’d expected him to agree with Enya. Instead, all he’d said was, “Bellamy McKenna is a very fine matchmaker if I ever did see one. I’ll be using him again, that I will.”
When Enya had brought up the issue of the convent in bed last night, Finola found her voice again, and she told Enya not to give advice about running away from her problems when she hadn’t told Da about the pregnancy yet, not even after he’d made the announcement that he intended to get Enya’s marriage to Bryan annulled.
Enya had started crying, and Finola had felt terrible for speaking her mind. Even so, she hadn’t been able to get Enya’s accusation out of her thoughts. Was she running away from her problems? She’d always believed that by going into the convent she’d be doing the right and brave thing. But what if it was the cowardly way out after all? What if she was simply seeking to escape rather than facing the fears and consequences of all that had happened with Ava?
Was it finally time to stop striving to control every aspect of her life? No matter how hard she worked to save the immigrants. No matter how much she’d done earlier in the week to save that sickly baby. No matter what steps she took to protect those she loved. She’d never be able to save everyone and control everything.
She’d never be perfect—not in an imperfect world where bad things happened even to the best of people.
Finola halted in front of the steps of the convent. She shifted her sack over her shoulder, the black habit inside. Today wouldbe the first time in weeks that she went visiting with the Sisters and not with Riley.
And by next week on Shrove Tuesday, she’d make a pledge to become Christ’s bride instead of Riley’s bride.
Her heart gave a traitorous thump of protest, and keen longing for Riley rose so swiftly, it took her breath away. What was he doing? And how was he faring? No doubt he was enjoying spending time with his family in the country.
She slipped the bag off her shoulder and opened it. As she began to tug the black habit out, her heart gave another hard thud. She’d been wearing the habit the first time Riley had come to her rescue. What a rescue it had been with Riley on top of her, his face close to hers, his intense gaze captivating her.
She closed her eyes to block out the image, but her mind filled with the memory of when they’d been in his bed, his legs tangling with hers, his hands on her hips drawing her against him, his lips melding with hers in a blissful and endless kiss.
Heat spilled into her blood, pumping it hard and fast, and her muscles tightened with need ... not only for his kisses, but for everything about him. There was so much about him that she loved—his easygoing ways, his mirth, his ability to relate to so many people, his genuine kindness, his willingness to do anything and go anywhere, his natural way of conversing.
Aye, he was impetuous and lived on the edge of danger, and it scared her. But he was everything she wanted and needed. And maybe she didn’t just love his qualities. Maybe she lovedhim.
Holy mother, have mercy. She loved Riley Rafferty.
“Finola, dear,” came a soft voice from the convent.
Finola’s eyes popped open to the sight of Sister Anne standing on the top step. Attired in her plain cloak and the simple, wide-brimmed white bonnet, the older woman watched Finola with concerned eyes. “Is everything alright, dear?”
