Hope Remains: A Hope Springs Fanfiction

Chapter 13

Emma was courting someone else.

The thought spun around in Finbarr's mind hour after hour as he worked in his fields, his heartache growing heavier with each minute that passed. How had this happened? For a moment, she had been within his grasp, and she slipped right through his fingers, caught instead by a sophisticated wealthy businessman. And the man was pleasant! And kind. Finbarr couldn't even hate him. And that frustrated him.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and took a long swig of water from his canteen. The cool water did nothing to wash away his feeling of trepidation. What was he supposed to do? Let Emma make her own choice? Because the choice seemed clear as day to him. She liked Mr. Kent a lot. Fancied him, even, judging from the giggles and whispers during the storytelling at the ceílí.

Before he could entertain the thought any longer, Finbarr listened to the chimes that blew in the wind, guiding him in the direction of Tavish's place. He had borrowed Tavish's spare work gloves because he had idiotically misplaced his. Knowing him, he likely left them in plain sight but just couldn't find them. Although he hated asking for help, Michael was coming by later to help him look.

The sound of someone talking sweet to their horse alerted him to Tavish's presence in the barn, and he called Grady over only to unhook his cane from his collar. He swept the cane across the ground while he walked forward, and the tip hit something solid—the barn door.

"I told you to rest, Cecily," Tavish said from the other side of the barn. "I know Kathleen has taken a toll on your sleep lately."

"It's just me," Finbarr said, walking slowly through the barn with his cane in front of him. Thankfully, Tavish kept everything tidy for Cecily's sake. Finbarr didn't have to worry about running into something unexpected. "I've come to return your work gloves. Michael will help me find mine tonight."

Tavish patted the horse, and in response, the horse nickered softly. Finbarr kept his distance. The large animal still made him nervous.

He heard Tavish's approaching footsteps moments before the pair of gloves were lifted from his hands. "Sorry 'bout the holes. These are almost as old as you are single."

Rolling his eyes, he flexed his fingers where the blisters had started to form. Holding a sickle for hours on end with threadbare gloves certainly took its toll, but they had been better than nothing.

"Do you never stop teasing?" he asked. "At least I'm not thirty yet. It's a miracle you met Cecily at such an ancient age."

His brother laughed, the sound echoing off the barn walls. "You got me there, deartháir. But at least I had been engaged by twenty-four. You haven't courted anyone in over ten years."

"Well, it wasn't from lack of trying," Finbarr muttered, conscious of Tavish's mention of his fiancée, Bridget, who had died from the fever many years ago. "Some of the girls laughed at me." Such as Annie Desmond. When Finbarr had asked her to dance years ago, she had laughed at him. Right in his face. He had never been more humiliated in his life.

But despite the horrid memory, another one surfaced, one that made him smile of Emma giving Annie a piece of her mind. Emma had only been about twelve then, but her defense of him had meant more to him than she knew.

Suddenly pricked by Tavish's unwanted teasing, he turned to leave, but Tavish shut the door to prevent him from escaping. "We need to talk."

"Let me by."

"No. You're losing a battle I truly want to see you win. I'm not going to stand idle and watch you lose the one thing you care about more than anything in the world."