“They are,” he said, “but the fresh air here is helping.”
Lydia watched them as they talked, her cheeks flushed and her eyelids heavy.
“How long have you lived in Hope Springs?” Eliza asked the doctor.
“About a half a year. It’s meant to be a temporary position, but I’m hoping to stay.”
“Hoping to? Do you think the townspeople will run you out on a rail?”
Again, a tiny smile appeared for a moment. “No. But I can’t keep working out of a tiny sod house. I can’t see patients there, and it would be easier if I weren’t always rushing from one house to another. Sometimes, when I’m needed, I can’t be found quickly.”
That was a difficulty. “You aren’t going to give up and leave, though, are you?”
“I’ve been looking for a place like Hope Springs all my life,” he said. “I’m not going to give it up easily.”
Her heart warmed at the sincerity in his voice. “What is so wonderful about Hope Springs?”
“The people, first,” he said. “They care about each other, and not in a halfhearted way. I’ve never known anything like it before. And something about this valley itself is very peaceful. I’ve needed a reliable measure of peace since I was a child.”
His had clearly been a difficult life.
“I’m glad you’ve found peace and friendship,” she said. “I’ve been looking for a bit of both myself.”
“Then you’ve come to the right town.” He stood. “Miracles happen in Hope Springs.”
Quick, heavy footsteps pulled their attention to the door. In the next instant, a grumpy bear of a man filled the threshold. “Miss Emma said Lydia’s ill.” He didn’t wait for an answer but moved directly to the three-sided bed and knelt beside it. “Fever? Rash?”
“An ordinary cold,” Dr. Jones said, taking up his medical bag. “No cause for alarm.”
Patrick touched his fingertips to Lydia’s flushed cheeks. “She’s warm.”
Lydia wrapped her hand around his finger.
He looked over at Dr. Jones. “Anything that ought to be done for her?”
“Rest. Water. Food as tolerated.”
Patrick nodded and returned his attention to the little patient.
Dr. Jones stepped to the doorway. “I will let Miss Emma know that she doesn’t have to worry.”
“Thank you,” Eliza said.
“Do you need anything,mo stóirín?” Patrick adjusted Lydia’s blanket without slipping his finger free of her grip. “A bit of water? Something to eat?”
Lydia coughed, then whimpered a little.
“The poor thing.” He turned to Eliza. “Wee ones tug at the heart when they’re ill, don’t they?”
Eliza slipped a little closer to him. “During our ride in the stagecoach, you did a very good job of hiding the fact that you’re tenderhearted.”
“I’m no such thing.”
She laughed. “You cannot fool me any longer, Patrick O’Connor. You are a pleasant person. Admit it.”
“Perhaps you didn’t hear, Eliza. I am a beggar man.” He could be rather funny when he allowed himself to be.
“It’s only your beggar man hair that makes people think that.” She eyed him more closely. “Have you considered cutting it? You wouldn’t have hair in your face or in the way while building Finbarr’s house, and Ivy wouldn’t be confused about your occupation.”
