Effie’s words drifted off and Niall picked up from there. “We heard him say we’re a terrible burden.”
Jean winced. Effie’s chin wobbled and tears welled in her eyes turning the soft hazel to a shining bright green. Aila’s heart broke. She drew the girl into her lap. “Gah, I dinnae think he meant that as ye think. I heard him, too, and I’ve talked with him about ye both. He loves ye verra much. Ye ken that?” They nodded. Niall looked hopeful. “Come here.”
Niall cuddled up against her side and she put an arm around each of them. “I think what he meant is that being a single father is difficult. Children were meant to be raised by two parents, aye? That’s why we have a Ma and a Da. What happens when one passes on too soon?”
“We’re left alone,” Effie whispered and rubbed her nose on the back of her hand. Aila fished out the handkerchief she’d taken to keeping in her pocket for this exact reason and handed it to her.
“And one parent is left without help, without a teammate to share the burden,” Aila added. “The burden is a terrible one, but no’ in the way ye think. Ye see, it’s the responsibility of assuring ye have everything ye need in life. To feed ye, clothe ye, and love ye as fully as two people might, but having to manage it alone. The burden is also in the fear that ye’re failing to give yer children those things. It’s hard being a single parent. Yer Da tries his best and that is all we can ever do, aye? That disnae mean it isnae difficult.”
As if she knew anything about parenting. Her statement was pure theory born out of wishful thinking. She hadn’t had a sterling parenting example herself. Her father had left when she was little. Her mother cared more about keeping her consecutive husbands and boyfriends happy than raising Aila and her older brother. Aila couldn’t put too much of the blame on her. Happy men refrained from slinging insults and swinging fists better than unhappy ones.
Aila had sworn she’d never cater to a man like that. Hell, she swore she’d never cater to any man in any sense of the word. Yet she’d fallen into the same pattern more often than she’d care to admit.
At least she’d never married any of them.
“Ye two need to do yer best, too, to help him along the way,” she continued. “Yer tendency to create trouble makes him feel like he’s failing in his duty. I ken ye do it because ye want all the love and attention ye’re missing out on without a mother here to make up the difference, but ye have to remember. He’s only one man. Do ye understand? Ye should work together, no’ against one another, to live yer best life.”
Niall’s chin jutted out, though not in his usual rebellion mode. Aila suspected it was an attempt to hold back tears of his own. “It’s all right to cry,” she assured him. “Hiding our feelings never helps in the end.”
“I’m no’ crying. Boys dinnae cry,” Niall denied with a swipe of his eyes.
“I can assure ye that boys and men do cry. It disnae take anything away from them to do so,” she assured him. “Have ye never seen yer father cry?”
The lad shook his head. “He would never.”
“I’d wager he has.”
“Talking about feelings again, Mistress Marshall?”
* * *
If he were honest, the sight of Aila cuddled before the fire with his children in her arms did stir more than a few feelings. Not only ones he shouldn’t be having, but ones Finn wouldn’t have thought himself capable of any longer. As if the autumn chill curled in his benumbed heart had given way to the warmth of spring. To renewal and rebirth. And blossomed once more.
Not that he would confess to those emotions.
In this case, however, it wouldn’t be a fatal blow to his manhood to confess a few others.
“Do ye think I dinnae shed a tear when yer mother died, lad?” Niall’s head waggled up, down and to the side in a jagged pattern of indecision. “I did. As I did when my parents passed from this earth. As Ian did, I’d wager, when he lost his family.”
“Dinnae drag me into this,” Ian mumbled as he pushed past Finn to enter the nursery and go to his son. Fergus welcomed him with a broad smile and open arms.
“My point is,” Finn continued as he squatted down on his haunches and gestured for Niall and Effie to come to him, “It disnae make ye any less of a man to care about others and to mourn them. Now, I realize I’m wet, but is that the sum of the greeting I’m to receive?”
He gathered his children into his arms and hugged them close. Effie sniffled in his ear. “I’m sorry we’re a burden, Da. I ken ye do the best ye can.”
A small part of Finn cringed at the sentimental lessons Aila was teaching his offspring. There was no advantage in being softhearted in a world as harsh and unforgiving as theirs was these days. On the other hand, her summation of his “burden” had struck a nerve. Raising them right…nay, raising themon his ownand hoping he managed it sufficiently was an arduous challenge. He’d never considered — or been willing to consider — that fear of failure in that quarter haunted him where Effie and Niall were concerned.
He should thank Aila for her insight. On the other hand, he wouldn’t want to encourage further talk about his feelings. Especially when they were as unsettled as they were.
“Ye have never been a burden. Ye’re the greatest joy of my life.” He cleared his throat.
“What is this?” Ian drew a heavy chain out of his son’s mouth and hands and held it aloft.
“It’s treasure, Da!” Niall pulled away and jumped to catch the necklace Ian held out of his reach.
“It has an inscription the children were hoping ye might be able to translate for them.”
Finn glanced at Aila as she spoke in her light, throaty brogue. As he feared, she appeared affected by his spurt of honesty. Her blue eyes soft. Affectionate. There’d been times in the past few days when he’d wondered at her thoughts. Right now, he’d rather not know. He’d gotten in deeper with her than he’d anticipated. That springtime thaw in his heart didn’t need any encouragement.
