was on his feet again, and once the house was cleaned and repaired, her work here would be done.
Ignoring him for the time being, she finished mopping the floor, then picked up his untouched luncheon tray. Leaving the front door wide open behind her, she marched the tray back to the house. When she returned not more than three minutes later, he remained silent, but she felt his dark eyes boring into her. She toted the bucket outside, tossed the dirty water, and then went back for her rags and mop. She was about to leave when she remembered the Delany photographs tucked in her right pocket.
When she walked over to Colin’s bedside, he looked mad enough to spit nails. She ignored his scowl.
“I don’t remember you having any gumption before. I don’t think I ever even heard you squeak around here,” he growled.
“Maybe you weren’t listening. I earned my gumption standing up to people who constantly told me no. People who insisted I couldn’t be what I wanted to be or learn what I wanted to learn because I was a woman. I learned to fight for what I wanted.”
She prayed he would soon muster enough courage of will to fight his pain, to believe in himself and this place again.
“I found these in the attic.” She slipped the images out of her pocket. Though she felt like tossing them on the bed, she set them down gently.
“If you’re waiting for me to thank you, you’re wasting your time.” He didn’t even glance at the pictures lying within reach, though he balled his fingers into a fist as if to keep from reaching for them.
It suddenly dawned on her that his anger had a purpose — it kept everyone at bay. He used it not only to isolate himself, but to hide his pain.
Kate softened the moment the realization hit her.
“Would you like me to trim your hair?” The words had come out too soft, almost as if she were coaxing a temperamental child. She desperately needed to find out if there was something, anything, left of the Colin she once knew. Perhaps after a haircut and shave …
“What I would like is for you to disappear.”
“I’m only trying to help, but I’m beginning to think you don’t deserve it.” Suddenly it didn’t matter why he was so angry and morose. Her Irish temper was already strained to the limit. “You have a dark heart, Colin. You didn’t always.”
She looked at the empty chair waiting beyond the French doors. She so wanted to see him in the dappled sunlight filtering down through the oaks. She started to walk away.
“What would you know of me or my heart?” His softer tone stopped her. “You were a child when you last saw me. I was too for that matter.”
She walked over to the open doors and stared outside. The garden was empty. The intense sunshine had driven Myra inside.
“I’d rather have a dark heart than one like yours,” he said.
She turned to him. “What do you mean?”
“You have a heart of glass. That’s very dangerous, you know.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It is too fragile, too full of a disgusting overabundance of optimism and hope.”
“What’s wrong with optimism? What’s wrong with hope?” His words hurt more than anything else he’d said or done. Rapidly blinking away tears, Kate was bound and determined not to let him see how easily he could wound her.
“When it finally shatters and that light is gone, Kate, you won’t be able to survive it.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute. That hope is what sustains me through good times and bad.” She took a step closer to the bedand stopped when his frown deepened. “I’d happily share it to see you through this. If only—”
“Are you always like this? Are you
real
?”
“I hope so.”
“I would think all that hope is exhausting.”
She took a deep breath, shook her head, and forced a smile. “No more exhausting than all of your self-pity.”
FOUR
I hate to see you go, Miss Kate.”
Kate crossed the open foyer at the bottom of the stairs in the main house and
Ignoring him for the time being, she finished mopping the floor, then picked up his untouched luncheon tray. Leaving the front door wide open behind her, she marched the tray back to the house. When she returned not more than three minutes later, he remained silent, but she felt his dark eyes boring into her. She toted the bucket outside, tossed the dirty water, and then went back for her rags and mop. She was about to leave when she remembered the Delany photographs tucked in her right pocket.
When she walked over to Colin’s bedside, he looked mad enough to spit nails. She ignored his scowl.
“I don’t remember you having any gumption before. I don’t think I ever even heard you squeak around here,” he growled.
“Maybe you weren’t listening. I earned my gumption standing up to people who constantly told me no. People who insisted I couldn’t be what I wanted to be or learn what I wanted to learn because I was a woman. I learned to fight for what I wanted.”
She prayed he would soon muster enough courage of will to fight his pain, to believe in himself and this place again.
“I found these in the attic.” She slipped the images out of her pocket. Though she felt like tossing them on the bed, she set them down gently.
“If you’re waiting for me to thank you, you’re wasting your time.” He didn’t even glance at the pictures lying within reach, though he balled his fingers into a fist as if to keep from reaching for them.
It suddenly dawned on her that his anger had a purpose — it kept everyone at bay. He used it not only to isolate himself, but to hide his pain.
Kate softened the moment the realization hit her.
“Would you like me to trim your hair?” The words had come out too soft, almost as if she were coaxing a temperamental child. She desperately needed to find out if there was something, anything, left of the Colin she once knew. Perhaps after a haircut and shave …
“What I would like is for you to disappear.”
“I’m only trying to help, but I’m beginning to think you don’t deserve it.” Suddenly it didn’t matter why he was so angry and morose. Her Irish temper was already strained to the limit. “You have a dark heart, Colin. You didn’t always.”
She looked at the empty chair waiting beyond the French doors. She so wanted to see him in the dappled sunlight filtering down through the oaks. She started to walk away.
“What would you know of me or my heart?” His softer tone stopped her. “You were a child when you last saw me. I was too for that matter.”
She walked over to the open doors and stared outside. The garden was empty. The intense sunshine had driven Myra inside.
“I’d rather have a dark heart than one like yours,” he said.
She turned to him. “What do you mean?”
“You have a heart of glass. That’s very dangerous, you know.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It is too fragile, too full of a disgusting overabundance of optimism and hope.”
“What’s wrong with optimism? What’s wrong with hope?” His words hurt more than anything else he’d said or done. Rapidly blinking away tears, Kate was bound and determined not to let him see how easily he could wound her.
“When it finally shatters and that light is gone, Kate, you won’t be able to survive it.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute. That hope is what sustains me through good times and bad.” She took a step closer to the bedand stopped when his frown deepened. “I’d happily share it to see you through this. If only—”
“Are you always like this? Are you
real
?”
“I hope so.”
“I would think all that hope is exhausting.”
She took a deep breath, shook her head, and forced a smile. “No more exhausting than all of your self-pity.”
FOUR
I hate to see you go, Miss Kate.”
Kate crossed the open foyer at the bottom of the stairs in the main house and
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