Finbarr seemed to have found contentment in his isolation. Still, it worried Burke, as a doctor, to not know if the young man was unwell, in body or spirit.
To the room in general, he said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to walk out to his place myself. See how he’s doing.”
He was bid farewell as he grabbed his doctor’s bag. He’d reached the entryway when Miss Kingston joined him there.
“Do you mind if I go along?”
“I don’t mind, though I’m not certain why you’d want to.”
She shrugged. “I have discovered there is absolutely nothing for me to do here. The house is well looked after. Mrs. Archer is fully occupied with her family.”
“And I am a better option than being bored?”
“Something like that.”
He supposed that was fair. “I should warn you that I am not nearly as fun of a companion as Ivy.”
“I don’t think anyone is. That girl is a bundle of joyful energy.”
They stepped out of the house, making their way toward the river. The day was fine and the weather cooperative. It would make for a pleasant walk.
“The Archers tell me the weeklycéilíis tomorrow,” Miss Kingston said. “They are excited to attend.”
“Are you?” Burke asked.
“Excited to attend?”
He nodded.
“I am. I’ve never been to an Irish party, and Ivy makes it sound like an absolute delight.”
“It is ahumbledelight,” he said.
She eyed him as they turned to follow the river; it, rather than the road, led to Finbarr’s farm. “You continually warn me about the party, all but saying you don’t think I ought to go.”
It was the thought he’d had, but hearing her put it so bluntly gave him pause. “I have been to a couple gatherings like those you would have known in Baltimore. I know how different they are from what you’ll find tomorrow.”
“And you think I will disapprove?”
“I hope not.” That was nothing but the truth. “And I further hope you won’t be miserable there, Miss Kingston.”
“Please, call me Sophie. All the Archers do, and I suspect all of Hope Springs will as well.”
He nodded his acknowledgement. “And most everyone calls me Burke or sometimes Doc. The children mostly call me Dr. Jones.”
“Burke. That’s a lovely name.”
“Thank you. I chose it myself.”
Why he so thoroughly enjoyed her look of intrigued shock, he couldn’t say. But hedidenjoy it.
“I was left as an infant at an orphanage in Illinois. Foundlings who didn’t have a name were assigned a surname—I was given Jones—and that was the only name we were known by. When I was five or six, I decided I wanted a first name as well. So, I chose one.”
“And that’s what they started calling you?”
“The other children did. The matron and caregivers did not. I was always ‘Jones’ to them.”
The wind whipped around strands of her light brown hair. “There is something so dismissive in refusing to call someone by the name they prefer. It tears away at their very identity.”
