Love. Romance. Marriage.
Were they still possible for her at the age of four and twenty? Had she missed her chance when Daniel had decided he didn’t want to marry her?
She ignored the pang in her heart and reminded herself anything was possible with God. Despite the thirteen years between their ages, Flynn Gallagher was a perfect match for Maeve. Their union was a blessing and a testimony to the power of love.
Finished feeling sorry for herself, Bridget tossed her shoulders back and stepped away from the railing. “Right, then. Here we go.”
Without looking back, she moved onto the gangplank. For once Nora allowed her to take the lead.
All the planning, prayer and gathering of meager funds had brought them to this glorious day. The moment Bridget’s feet touched the wooden dock, her legs wobbled beneath her and her breath caught in her throat. “Oh, Nora, we’re finally in America. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Breathtaking.” Nora made a face. “As long as you cover your nose.”
Bridget waved a dismissive hand. Nothing was going to ruin this moment for her. Not even the awful smells. Besides, Boston wasn’t their final destination. Once they gathered their few belongings, Flynn would hire a carriage to take them to the small town of Faith Glen.
Faith Glen. The name had a nice Irish ring to it.
Heart slamming against her ribs, Bridget turned in a slow circle. She wavered a bit, not yet used to the feel of the docks beneath her. There were so many sights to take in, so much noise to filter through her mind. The shouts and laughter mingled together from every corner of the wharf.
A stiff breeze kicked up, tugging several tendrils free from their pins. Bridget shoved at her loose hair, which was quickly becoming an untidy mess. It seemed the wind always won the battle against her best efforts to tame her unruly curls.
She waved at her new friends, Ardeen and her aunt. They returned the gesture but didn’t approach, too intent on finding their luggage. The two had been so kind to Bridget and her sisters. Ardeen wasn’t particularly young, but was attractive and fashionable. Mrs. Kennedy was shorter and a little fuller figured. Both were single and appeared out of their depth amidst the chaos on the wharf. Bridget should help.
“Watch yourself,” came a shout from behind her.
With only seconds to spare Bridget dashed out of the way of a cart careening by. Undaunted by the near-miss, she cut a glance to the other end of the wharf but couldn’t find Ardeen and Mrs. Kennedy.
People of every age, size and station milled about. Caught up in the excitement, Bridget gravitated to a location out of the main thoroughfare. All she wanted to do was watch, listen and learn the many secrets of her new homeland.
“Stay focused, Bridget.” Nora placed a light touch to her arm. “We still need to locate our luggage before we rendezvous with Maeve and Flynn.” Her tone was pure Nora—brisk, efficient and more than a little impatient.
Nora was in her sensible mood. Best to move out of the way and let her take charge.
“Why don’t you give Grace to me?” Bridget reached out her arms to the wiggling bundle. “I’ll take her out of the hot sun while you search for our luggage.”
Nora hesitated.
“If I stand over there—” Bridget cocked her head toward a spot directly behind her “—I’ll be able to watch for Maeve and Flynn.”
“That’s not a bad plan.” Slowly, with more than a little reluctance, Nora handed over the baby. “But stay put,” she ordered, her warning gaze proving she knew there was a good chance Bridget might not do as commanded. “I won’t be long.”
Bridget had no doubt. “Run along, Nora. Grace will be quite fine with me.”
That seemed to mollify her and she scurried off at a quick pace.
With the infant nestled safely against her, Bridget moved into the shadow cast by the ship’s hull and continued watching the activity around her.
As though sensing all was well, the baby promptly fell asleep in her arms.
Equally content, Bridget sighed. The starkly handsome ship rocked in the brackish water behind her. Caged in the dark pool, the enormous structure swayed its lofty head in impatience. The groan of the rigging sounded like an angry mutter of protest against its current confinement.
Bridget had felt that same way back in Ireland. At least in the end. But she and her sisters would soon claim a home of their own, their first, the one deeded to their mother years ago. It was the discovery of that long-hidden deed that had spurred the sisters to set out for America. Now, she couldn’t wait to see where their journey led.
So many possibilities lay ahead. Her mind wanted to wander. She let it.
Far too little time passed before Bridget caught sight of Maeve disembarking with her new husband. They hadn’t seen Bridget yet. Arms linked, leaning into one another, the newlyweds moved as a single unit. Flynn’s dark head bent over Maeve’s lighter one. He whispered something in her ear. They both laughed, and the sound reached all the way to where Bridget stood with Grace.
Did they know how happy they appeared to outsiders?
Something hard knotted in Bridget’s stomach and she looked away as a familiar sense of loss filled her.
No. She would not give Daniel McGrath such power. It had been a year since he’d left her heartbroken and humiliated. Nothing was going to ruin this day for her, especially not bad memories of the one man who’d disappointed her.
For I will turn their mourning into joy…
Letting the Scripture sink in, Bridget decided to wait a moment longer before she approached Maeve and her husband.
Just as she was ready to step out of the shadows, a movement caught her eye.
Something was coming toward her. No, someone—weaving through the thick crowd with purpose.
Bridget struggled to moderate her breathing, even as she craned her neck to see over the bobbing heads.
One blink, two and she saw him. The same man she’d watched from the ship’s main deck.
The sound of her heartbeat echoed in her ears.
How could a stranger affect her so?
He was a full hundred feet away and Bridget still couldn’t make out his features, yet she couldn’t look away. She knew—she knew—he was different. Special. And just like earlier, she was inexplicably drawn to him, fascinated, perhaps even bewildered.
A shiver of anticipation skittered up her spine and she instinctively leaned forward. Toward him. Her eyes narrowed for a better look.
He wore a dark frock coat over lighter-colored trousers and carried what looked like a soft-crowned brown hat in his right hand. By his dress alone she knew he was no average dock worker. Or weary traveler.
He had to be a businessman. An American businessman?
In spite of the impeccable clothing and dark hair cut in a very modern style, a shocking air of raw masculinity resonated out of him.
He surveyed his surroundings with meticulous care, checking faces only. Occasionally he would stop and ask a question of someone, shake his head, then continue his search.
She still couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but he seemed to be looking for someone in particular.
Grace? Was he here to claim Grace?
No, that couldn’t be right. The baby had been born on the journey over. This man had not been on the ship, she would have remembered him. He couldn’t possibly know of the child’s existence. Could he?
Her body reacted with an odd sensation and she tightened her hold on Grace.