Page 10 of Irish Thoroughbred
Again Adelia sighed, moving her shoulders restlessly. “I wouldn’t say hard, Uncle Paddy, but everything changed after Mother and Da died.”
“Poor little Dee, such a wee thing to be losing so much.”
“I thought my world had ended when they died,” she whispered, hardly aware she was speaking aloud. “I’m thinking I died myself for a time, so angry and frightened I was, then numb, feeling nothing. But I began remembering how they were together. No two people could have loved each other more. Such a fine, full loving they had, even a child could see it.”
So engrossed were the man and woman in the words being spoken that neither heard the sound of feet climbing the stairs. Travis halted in his action of knocking, dropping his hand as he watched the poignant picture, and Adelia’s words drifted through the screen.
“The only thing I could give them was the farm, and it was all I had left of them. Poor Aunt Lettie, she worked so hard and I was a constant cross for her to bear.” She laughed as memory flickered through her mind. “She never could understand why I had to ride so fast. ‘Sure and it’s your neck you’ll be breaking,’ she used to call after me, shaking her fist. ‘Who’ll be helping with the plowing if you bash in your head on the road?’ Then when I’d have one of my rages and go off shouting and cursing—and it’s often, I’m afraid, I did just that—she’d cross herself and start praying for my doomed soul.
“Jakers, but we worked.” With a long breath she shut her eyes. “But it was too much for one woman and a half-grown girl, and not enough money to hire help, andnone to be made without it. Do you know how it is, Uncle Paddy, when you see the thing you need, but the closer you get the further away it is? Always moving away from you, always just out of your reach. Sometimes, when I look back, I can’t tell one day from the rest. Then Aunt Lettie had that stroke, and how she hated to be lying there helpless day after day.”
“Why did you never let me know how things were?” Paddy questioned, looking down at her dark head. “I could have helped you—sent you money, or come back myself.”
She raised her head and smiled at him. “Aye, that’s just what you would have done, and to what good? Throwing your money away, taking yourself from the life you’d chosen… I’d not have had that for a minute, and neither would Aunt Lettie, or Mother and Da. The farm’s gone, just as they are, and so is Ireland. Now I have you, I’m not needing another thing.”
Looking into his eyes, seeing the concern and regret written there, she wished suddenly she had kept her own counsel. “How is it, Padrick Cunnane, that a fine, handsome man like yourself never took a wife?” Her grin turned impish, and devils danced in her eyes. “There must have been dozens of ladies willing. Have you never found a woman to love?”
He touched her cheek, giving her a wistful smile. “Aye, lass, that I did, but she chose your father.”
Deep green eyes filled with surprise that melted intosympathy. “Oh, Uncle Paddy!” She flung her arms around him, and Travis turned from the door and walked silently down the stairs.
The next morning the air seemed to sigh with spring, whispering promises of flowers and cool, leafy trees. To Adelia it brought memories of other springs. Spring was the time the earth asked to be replenished and grew pregnant with new life. Her world had always revolved around the earth, its gifts and hardships, its demands and promises.
From the balcony of Paddy’s house she surveyed the land that was Travis’s. It seemed to stretch on and on with the easy, gentle roll of a calm sea. Green and brown waves were dotted not with boats but with finely sculptured Thoroughbreds. It ran through her mind that she had no conception of what lay over the last hill. This land was still a stranger. From the moment of her arrival in America she had seen little else but what belonged to Travis Grant.
Over the pure, sweet air floated an occasional whinny or the quick call of a bird. But for this, there was silence. There was no strident call of rooster announcing the new day, no fields turned up waiting to receive seeds, no weeds demanding uprooting. All at once homesickness washed over her so intensely that she could only shut her eyes and weather the storm.
So much is gone, she thought, and her hands hugged her elbows as if in comfort. I’ll never be able to go back, never see the farm again. Sighing, she opened her eyes and tried to shake off the melancholy. There’s nothing to be done about it; the bridges are burned. This is home now, and if it’s not really mine, it’s the closest I’ll come.
“Where are you, lass?”
Adelia started slightly as Paddy’s arm slipped around her; then she sighed again and rested against his shoulder. “Back on the farm, I suppose. Thinking about spring planting.”
“It’s a day for it, isn’t it? The air’s cool, and the sun’s warm.” He gave her shoulder a small squeeze, then clucked his tongue as if in regret. “I’ve got to go into town today. It’s a pity.”
“A pity?”
“I was hoping to get some seeds in around the walkway. Thought I might make a flower bed in front of the house, too.” He shook his head and sighed. “Just don’t know when I’ll find the time.”
“Oh, I’ll do it, Uncle Paddy. I’ve plenty of time.” Drawing away, she looked at him with such innocent acceptance of his trumped-up excuse that he nearly broke into a grin.
“Little Dee, I couldn’t ask you to do all that on your day off.” He creased his face into doubtful lines and patted her cheek. “No, it’s too much. I’ll get to it as soon as I find a bit of time.”
“Uncle Paddy, don’t be silly. I’d love to do it.” Her smile was blooming again, chasing the clouds from her eyes. “Just show me what you want done.”
“Well…” He permitted her to argue a few more minutes before allowing himself to be persuaded.
Armed with a myriad of seed packs and a small spade, Adelia stood on the patch of lawn surrounding Paddy’s house and mentally mapped out her landscaping. Petunias along the walks, asters and marigolds against the house, impatiens for the border. And sweet peas, she thought with a smile, for the trellis she had asked Paddy to buy. In the fall, she decided, I’ll plant bulbs, as many as the ground will hold. Daffodils and tulips. Satisfied with her planning, she began to turn the earth.
The sun grew warmer, and her sleeves were soon pushed past her elbows. In the distance she could hear the sounds of men and horses going through their daily routine: a shout, laughter, the thud of hooves on dirt. But soon, lost in her planting, she drifted apart. Softly, she began to sing a song remembered from childhood, the words soothing and familiar. The scent of fresh earth eased the ache with which she had awakened.
A shadow fell across her. Twisting her head, she dropped the spade nervously as Travis looked down at her.
“I’ve made you stop. I’m sorry.”
He seemed impossibly tall as he stood over her. Shecraned her neck and squinted against the sun. It glowed in an aura around his head, and for one fanciful moment she thought he looked like a knight on his way to vanquish dragons.
“No, you just startled me.” Picking up the spade, Adelia told herself she was a fool and began to work again.
