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We don’t want for happiness here. We take what we have and find happiness in it. This applies to all facets of life, and also love.
Am I sinful that I couldn’t do that? That I can’t be happy with my lot? I thought of him before he arrived. Before I even knew his face, I wrote him letters, sealed them up in bottles, tossed them to the sea. It was all quite pitiful. I knew that. Silly.
I suppose I wanted to escape. That was the narrative I knew. Prince Declan. I smile down at my lap as I think of how he behaved that first night I saw him. I was furious—less so with him, more so with my foolish self. And then…
And then.
After mass, I chat with Uncle Ollie for a bit, and then with Mrs. Petunia White. I find, by chance, I wasn’t wrong about the weather. We’re due two days of driving rain, starting this evening.
Father Russo comes to stand by Mrs. White as she asks after Baby. “How is that sweet love?”
“She’s doing wonderfully. I haven’t put her with the others yet, but it’s in her future. Unless she says she doesn’t want to leave me.”
Mrs. White chortles. Father Russo’s gray-black eyebrows scrunch, as if he’s never heard a conversation like ours. Then he smooths his face out, unassuming—comically so. He puts his hand on Mrs. White’s shoulder, but his eyes meet and hold mine.
“Finley. How are you feeling?” Father Russo’s voice is like a bird’s: nasally and so high-pitched it sounds like chirping when he speaks.
“No complaints, sir. How are you?”
“I would be better if I understood why you ceased attending weekday masses.”
My face blazes. I can scarcely form words. “I suppose I have,” I manage.
“Did I do something to offend?”
“Oh, heavens no. I’m sorry to cause…questions, sir. Father,” I correct. “It’s just that without Doctor, I’m more occupied with clinic duties. All of that…it takes up quite a bit of time.”
“Is that so?” His eyes and mouth are round, as if he’s genuinely curious. He’s such an odd duck, I can’t tell if he’s just being odd, or if he’s actually unhappy with me.
“It is so, Father. But I’m sorry to have disappointed you. I’ll do my best to attend mornings again quite soon.”
“I heard your Doctor is returning early.”
My stomach does a slow roll. “Did you then?”
He nods. “I’m ready to see my dear friend again.”
“Oh yes. I’m so eager for that, too.”
As quickly as he stuck his neck into our conversation, he’s gone.
“Dear Father. A bit odd. What a true man of the Lord, though,” Mrs. White murmurs.
“Absolutely.”
I can’t escape the church quickly enough. As I step out, I nearly bump right into Holly, who looks lovely in an apple red dress.
“Finley. You’re just the one I wanted to see.”
I imagine crossing myself, as I would like to. Holly walks me to the clinic residence, yammering the entire while about Dot and Rob Glass.
“I’d quite like to be…enthusiastic, but he’s…simply so…well, old.” Her brows draw sharply together. “He’s like…the apple when the peel part, the outside of it, has gone a bit squishy. It’s still edible—” I’m cringing along with Holly, though for different reasons— “but who would want to eat it? If we’ve enough apples, and the crop has been well, I toss those out whole at times when Mum’s not looking.”
Well, you’re not the lady of the house. You can afford to behave like a school child.
I nod.
“I feel she’d be better off alone.”
