The Advent

The Advent by Deidre Dalton is Book #1 in the Collective Obsessions Saga.

 

Forbidden love and dark secrets haunt two Irish families hacking out a new life in 19th-century America. When Molly Larkin's father discovers her affair with lighthouse keeper Colm Sullivan, his reaction pitches her into madness. Yet the legacy forges a bond of blood that will endure for generations...

From Chapter Four

THE SERVANT'S CARRIAGE jounced as they raced the rain. Storm clouds streaked across the sky, trying to beat them home. Nichols pushed the horses harder despite the lather fly­ing from their mouths.

 

Molly sat in the flat-bed pressed tight to Colm. The other passengers did not appear to care, if they noticed. Even Seamus kept his mouth shut.

 

Molly and Colm's purchases filled several burlap sacks beside them. Molly bought silky blue fabric for a dress, and Colm stocked up on supplies for his cottage, coming in just under the twenty dollar limit. He was excited to get home and put his supplies away and begin making the cottage feel like home. He relished thoughts of his day with Molly in Larkin Village. They had strolled along the boardwalk on Main Street, had eaten lunch at The Sea Wharf Café, then sat at an outdoor table talking and laughing. She asked him about Malahide, so he told her about his village, and how his parents and sister were killed.

 

She turned to him and asked over the noise of the race down the road: "Have you ever been married?"

 

"No, never!" he laughed. Now what brought that on?

 

"Any special lasses back in Ireland?"

 

"Nary a one."

 

"How old are you? Don't you like girls?"

 

"I'm twenty, and, yes, I like girls. I just had a wonderful day with one, didn't I?"

 

"Touché," she smiled. She turned to notice they were entering the mile-long road to the estate, and then looked up into his face. "You're the perfect age, you know."

 

"The perfect age for what?"

 

Molly's merry laugh was carried away on the wind, but she did not answer him.

 

As they neared the kitchen door, Molly turned to him, her eyes dancing. "I'll get those vegetables to you tomorrow. Now you'd better run to beat the storm."

 

"I'll wait in suspended animation," he teased, knowing his words would amuse her.

 

She giggled. As the carriage stopped at the door, she touched his arm and whispered: "It's tea time, and we beat the rain." She paused. "I loved our day together."

 

Colm lowered his voice to match hers. "We'll do it again soon."

 

"Yes."

 

Colm jumped down and held up his hand to Molly, who, instead of making a nimble leap to the ground, gave him her hand and stepped down like a lady, then, with one last glance into his face, hurried indoors with her bag of blue fabric. Colm gathered his purchases and began walking back to the cottage, where he would make a supper for himself of bacon and eggs. He was pleasantly tired, and wanted to be alone to remember every detail of the day.

 

As he walked toward the path to his cottage, leaning into the wind, he felt the first few drops of rain. He had to hurry or he would get soaked. A feeling told him to look back. He turned and saw Molly standing in the front doorway, waving. He felt, rather than saw her happy glow, and waved back, then turned and ran into the dark. As the path descended sharply, he slowed. Then the thought came: "I have to draw Molly. I have to paint her. I want to put her image down permanently, so that it will always be alive."

 

As he opened the cottage door, the sky pealed rain. He closed the door behind him, glad to be home and filled with an overwhelming sense of happiness.