Hearts in Sorrow

Hearts in Sorrow by Deidre Dalton is the prequel to the Collective Obsessions Saga.

Long before emigrating to America to settle the town of Larkin, Maine, John Larkin falls for the hauntingly beautiful Maeve O'Quinn in his native Ireland. Although frail, she returns the love of the future Larkin patriarch in full measure as she envisions a rosy life with him, little knowing that fate has other plans for them.

From Chapter One

October 1854

Castletownbere, County Cork, Ireland

    THE MINUTE JOHN O'Larkin saw her, he instinctively knew with absolute certainty that he would never want anyone else with such ferocity again, not for as long as he lived and breathed.

     Her flaming red hair and vivid green eyes were breathtakingly apparent, even from a distance. The late afternoon sun appeared to cast a warm glow around her pale face, giving her an ethereal presence. As she grew closer, he saw the scant dusting of freckles on the bridge of her pert nose and high cheekbones.

     It was only then that John paid attention to her two travelling companions. There was a man - perhaps in his forties - and a girl not much older than the red-haired beauty, who were also situated on the wood wagon, being slowly led by an ancient donkey. Who were they? And, more importantly, who was she?

     The older man in the wagon raised his hand in greeting. With a slight smile, John rose to his full height from the chair he had been sitting on. Behind him, the O'Larkin cottage stood in the fading sunlight, its whitewashed exterior gleaming with cleanliness. He waved in return, stepping off the porch. He moved with an easy yet long stride, seemingly comfortable in dark brown trousers and a white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows.

     The older man stopped the wagon in front of the cottage, but John's eyes remained riveted on the girl as he spoke. "Hello," he said with a degree of enthusiasm. "What brings you to Castletownbere on this fair afternoon?"

     The man jumped to the ground from the wagon, his hand outstretched. "Hello to you," he said affably. "My name is Dary O'Quinn, from Bantry. These are me two daughters, Anne and Maeve."

     John tore his eyes away from the redhead and placed his attention on Dary. "Pleased to meet you, to be sure. My name is John O'Larkin. What brings you so far afield from Bantry?"

     While Dary was rather tall with sandy-coloured hair and green eyes, John still towered over him with his long, lean body, somewhat intimidating in his appearance with jet-black hair, sideburns and naturally pale skin. The older man had to look up in order to meet John's azure blue eyes, noticing the prominent yet attractive cleft in his chin.

     "We came to Castletownbere to visit with my sister but found her cottage empty. I cannot find a soul who can tell me where she is."

     John studied Dary, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I'm a lifelong resident of Castletownbere. Perhaps I know of her. What would be your sister's name?"

     "Aoife McCarthy. Her husband is Daniel McCarthy."

     John pursed his lips. "The same Daniel and Aoife McCarthy who owned O'Shea's Tavern on the Square?"

     Dary nodded. "Indeed. Danny bought the place some years ago, right after he married my sister. I was going there next to look them up."

     John knew most of the inner workings of his native Castletownbere, just as his neighbours knew much about him. "They left a fortnight ago," he informed Dary quickly. "Daniel sold the tavern, and then he and Aoife emigrated to America aboard the SS Herman Roosen, taking the Dublin to New York City route. Apparently, Daniel has a brother living in Boston, so they went to seek their fortune across the pond."

     Dary appeared stunned. "And she didn't tell me? Aoife and Danny were my only kin in these parts."

     John regarded Dary with sympathy. "Perhaps Aoife sent you a letter and you just haven't received it yet," he suggested.

     "You're probably right," Dary agreed. "I'll likely have a letter from her when I get home."

     John's eyes went back to the redhead, who remained in the wagon as she met his stare unblinkingly. "It's late in the day," he stated suddenly. "Why don't you stay here for the night and return home tomorrow? It's a long road from here to Bantry, I reckon about seven or eight hours. It will be dark soon, so you're more than welcome to pass the night in my humble cottage."

     Dary seemed surprised. "That's very thoughtful of you, John. Are you sure we won't be a burden?"

     "Not a bit of it," John replied. "I live here alone. It was the cottage of my parents, but they have both passed on. You and your daughters can easily take your rest here before returning to your home in Bantry."

     "Thank you kindly, my friend."

     John stepped toward the wagon. "May I assist you, miss?" He squinted his eyes at the redhead as he continued. "And which daughter would you be?"

     She smiled at him, revealing her even, white teeth. He noticed her full and sensuous lips for the first time, causing him to pause. She held out her hand as she spoke. "I'd be Maeve, kind sir." She glanced over her shoulder to the back of the wagon. "And that is my sister, Anne."

     John was momentarily mesmerized by the husky tone of Maeve's voice. For such a petite and delicate young woman, the nuances of her tone were surprising, yet they charmed his ears. He barely nodded to the other sister, who stared at him from the back of the wagon.

     Stepping closer, John took Maeve's hand to assist her from the wagon. She was wearing a navy-blue dress with white trim that, while clean, had likely seen better days. She also wore a black cloak about her shoulders. The warm touch of her skin against his and the faint scent of bergamot wafting from her forced him to swallow quickly in order to maintain an air of nonchalance.

     "Thank you, kind sir," she said softly.

     Not forgetting the manners his mother had instilled in him many years ago, John also helped Anne from the wagon. She and her sister were as physically different as night and day. Where Maeve was small and dainty, Anne was as tall as Dary with golden brown hair and dark coal eyes.

     He noticed Anne's hands, which were as large and calloused as that of any man. Being tall, she was also somewhat big-boned. Her face was long and narrow, her lips thin, her feet overlarge and her skin as pale as his own. While not ugly by any means, Anne was still no comely match when compared to Maeve. He found it difficult to believe they were sisters.

     Dary watched with interest as John briefly interacted with his daughters. His two girls were exact opposites in almost all things, although they managed to relate to each other in sisterly fashion most of the time. It did not surprise him that John appeared to favour Maeve over Anne. Maeve's outer frailty seemed to draw on the protective nature found in most men, while Anne's lummox bearing did little to endear her to the opposite sex, God love her.

     "Let's go inside," John said. "I have a pot of lamb stew on the stove, with freshly-baked bread and recently churned butter."

     Anne appeared startled. "You cook your own meals, sir?"

     John chuckled. "I'm a bachelor, but I like to eat good food. My sainted mother taught me well."

     Maeve giggled, the light sound music to John's ears. "Lucky for us, kind sir," she teased him gently.