“Believe me, brother, I was doing everyone a favor,” he muttered.
Finbarr pushed out a tense breath. “The fire”—he pointed at his face—“almost killed me. Sometimes I think the family would be better off if it had.”
There was sincerity in his words, but not despondency. Still, Patrick didn’t like hearing it. Turning the boy’s thoughts another direction seemed wise. “I can build you a fine house here, Finbarr. I’d have the door facing the path that lead us here. The house could be laid out in a way that made it easy to navigate.”
“Is there a way of building it so there’s a lot of light inside? I can see some if there’s enough light.”
“Aye.” Patrick’s image of the future home grew more specific. “Windows on the east and west.”
“Doesn’t have to be big,” Finbarr said. “It’ll be only me living here.”
“Only youfor now.”
“Only me ever.”
Patrick wished he could argue, but he knew how brokenness changed a person’s future. “Maybe I’ll come live with you, lad. We’ll be a couple of bachelors, not minding a bit that we have no prospects.”
“Ma’ll come by crying,” Finbarr warned.
“We’ll pretend we’re not home.”
The lad smiled. “We’ll turn into a couple of curmudgeons.”
“And wouldn’t that be an adventure.” Patrick made sure to laugh a bit so his brother wouldn’t think he actually meant to impose on him. “What else do you think you’ll need in this home of yours?”
Finbarr shrugged. “That’s a question you’d do best to ask Cecily.”
“I’ve heard her mentioned before,” Patrick said. “But I don’t know who she is.”
“Tavish’s wife.”
Ah. “More family.”
Finbarr pushed out a breath. “That’s something you’ll discover about Hope Springs. There’s family everywhere.”
Chapter Six
