The evening was filled with laughter and music. Peter claimed nearly all her dances, only begrudgingly allowing others to dance with her. Finbarr stayed on the periphery of the merriment, Grady faithfully at his side.

"Hello, Miss Emma," Jeremiah Johnson said, stopping her as she made her way to Peter's side at the refreshment table. "How are you? I haven't talked to you in weeks."

Emma smiled, Mr. Johnson was much different now than he had been during the feuding days. He was much kinder, softer.

"I'm doing well, Mr. Johnson," she replied. "How are you?"

They exchanged pleasantries and after a few moments of idle conversation, Mr. Johnson said something that surprised her so completely, she found herself unable to move.

"I heard the preacher and his wife have moved to Laramie. Would you be interested in applying for the post of teacher?"

Her breath whooshed from her lungs and she blurted, "How did you know?"

Mr. Johnson chuckled softly, a hint of sadness entering his expression. "My daughter talked constantly of you when you were small. She told me often that you loved school and that when you played with dolls, you were always the teacher. I just wondered if it was still something that interested you."

"Marianne," she blinked, her breath catching in her chest. Her dear friend had passed away so long ago, yet it seemed like yesterday. She remembered her friend's sunny smile, her constant care about others around her. It seemed Marianne was caring for her still.

"I happened to think of it when my wife told me," Mr. Johnson nodded. "If you are interested, let me know. You're one of the brightest young things I've ever met."

"Thank you, sir," she breathed. "Thank you! I'll let you know. "

Emma felt like she was in a trance as she made her way forward once more. Her excitement about the teaching position mingled with indecision. She could go to Baltimore and become a teacher there, but how could she leave the people she cared about behind? She would miss Hope Springs and all the people here. But if she chose Hope Springs and things didn't work out with Finbarr... She groaned, resisting the urge to throw up her hands in helpless confusion. That confusion was tempered by pain at the memory of her friend. She missed her so much...

She watched Finbarr interacting with Ivy between dances, her heart warming as he allowed her sister to talk his ear off. He had always been extremely patient with Ivy, they had always been like brother and sister.

"Your sister switched partners on us," Peter chuckled, coming up behind her with a filled plate. "She said it was because she wanted to make a young man jealous, but I have a sneaking suspicion that she favors Finbarr over me."

His voice held no resentment. In fact, he seemed amused by Ivy's meddling. "Ivy reminds me very much of my youngest sister, actually."
"How many siblings do you have?" she asked as the musicians struck up a country waltz. Peter set aside the plates and took her hand gently in his, his melting smile making her heart flutter.

"There's four of us counting me," he replied as they stepped together into the dance. "I'm the oldest, then I have twin brothers—James and Gregory—then Caroline. She was rather doted on and spoiled by everyone growing up. She's my favorite."

"Everyone in our family feels the same way about Eimear," she said, glancing over to where her littlest sister danced in a circle with some of the other children, laughing and giggling and falling all over each other. "My parents weren't expecting to have another child after Sean."

Eimear had been a gift to all of them, especially Emma. There was fifteen years difference between them and she had treasured watching her little sister grow.

Marianne should have had the same chance.

Emma's heart pricked. She missed her friend horribly and although the ache never completely went away, it had lessened over the years. She knew logically that Marianne's death was not her fault, that the blame lay squarely on the shoulders of Bob Archibald, but she had been the one to suggest going to the loft to get away from all the shouting adults the night of the fire. She had never quite been able to let go of that burden, no matter how hard she tried. She suspected it would always be with her, a constant reminder of her lost friend.

Suddenly the walls of the barn felt too confined, she could almost hear the roar of the flames, smell the smoke and ash...

"I need some air," she murmured, stepping quickly away from Peter. "Will you excuse me for a moment?"

He looked concerned, putting a gentle hand on her arm to stop her. "Would you like me to go with you?"
"No, thank you," she shook her head, trying to give him a reassuring smile that she was certain fell completely flat. She just needed to be alone. "I'll be back in a moment."

She rushed toward the barn doors, past knots of laughing, chatting people. Hope Springs was so different now, Irish and Red no longer mattered. They were all just neighbors and friends. Yet, her mind was stuck in that awful night and she felt as though she couldn't breathe.

Breaking out into the purple light of the evening, she forced herself to breathe, leaning against the outer wall of the barn. She hadn't had a panic attack in years, why now? Blinking back tears of frustration, she sank to the ground and put her head on her knees, focusing on breathing in and out...in and out...

"Oh, Marianne," she murmured, a lump forming in her throat. "I'm so sorry."

Moments later, jingling alerted her to Grady's presence and when she looked up, the dog bounded forward, licking her cheek. In spite of her pain, she laughed, scratching the dog behind the ears.

"Would you care for some company?" Finbarr's deep voice brought her eyes up to his face. "It was too loud in there for me."

Emma nodded before remembering that he couldn't see her. "That would be nice."

He slid down the wall so he sat next to her, crossing his legs in front of him. He didn't ask her what she was doing outside, didn't ask her what was wrong, he just let her be. Her heart swelled with a bubble of gratitude. She wasn't certain she was up for talking about what had brought her outside yet.

"I can remember a time when I used to like parties," he chuckled ruefully, shredding a piece of grass between his fingers. "I mean, I still like talking to people and the food is always amazing, but I struggle with the noise of it all. Crowds make it hard for me to get my bearings."

"I know a little of what that's like," she agreed, thinking back on her mad dash out of the party a few minutes ago. "I don't like confined spaces."

"My family worries less if I come, I think it gives them a sense of comfort if I continue to do things I enjoyed before the fire. But I prefer the quiet."

And yet he had been making an effort to come to parties and ceílís. She knew he was doing it for the benefit of his family, but was that what he needed?

"Why did you leave the party?" he asked quietly. There was no judgement, no curiosity in his tone, only compassion.

"How did you know?" she asked, her eyes widening in surprise. He couldn't have seen her and with all the noise, he certainly hadn't heard her leave.

"Grady," he let out a low chuckle as he gestured to the dog. "He made the noise I recognized as wanting to go outside. That was when I heard you over here."

"I didn't realize I was that loud," Emma grimaced. "I wasn't crying or anything like that."

Finbarr shook his head. "You weren't loud, I just heard what you said."

She sighed, leaning her head back against the barn wall and blinking away more tears as she looked up at the first stars peeking through the scudding clouds.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, his words surprising her nearly speechless. He had never offered to talk about the fire before, the topic had always been off limits between them.

"I don't know," she hesitated. It had been so long since they had really talked, she wasn't certain their friendship could take the weight of the burdens they'd kept from each other for ten years. Would it stand up to the weight?

"Come on, Emma," he weedled, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I'm a big strong man now, I can handle it."

Her smile melted into a sigh, her voice clogging with tears. "I miss her, Finbarr."

"I know, love," he murmured. "I know."

He scooted closer, wrapping his arm around her. She curled into his warmth, letting the pain flow.

"I remember that night so well, sometimes I wish I didn't. Marianne was dead, Katie was barely breathing, you were so...still... and it was all my fault."

Emma fought the images of Finbarr's broken and burned body that swam to the surface of her mind. She hated remembering him like that.

"I laid on the bed next to you and cried," she murmured. "I wanted to be so brave for you, but I couldn't, Finbarr. I couldn't."

He let out a shuddering breath as though chasing away painful memories of his own.

"It wasn't your fault, Emma."

"If I hadn't told Ivy and Marianne we should go to the barn, you would never have been burned, Katie wouldn't have lost her fingers, Marianne—"

But Emma couldn't go on. She buried her face in Finbarr's shoulder, letting the tears come.

"Emma," he said softly, tipping her chin up toward his face. She was startled by how direct and focused his gaze was in that moment, his scars soft in the purple twilight. "It wasn't your fault, sweetheart. I know that, Katie knows that, the Johnsons know that."

She sighed, curling closer to him. They sat in silence for a few moments before he spoke once more.

"I blame myself too," he murmured. "If I had gotten there sooner, if I had been able to put out the fire, if I hadn't fallen on Marianne..."

His voice caught on the last word and he took a deep, shuddering sigh. "I can still see your face sometimes like I saw it that night. I wish every day that I could go back and do things differently, that I hadn't pushed you away when you needed me as much as I needed you."

"What a mess life is," she laughed softly, caressing the skin around his eyes gently with her thumb. He chuckled too, capturing her fingers against his cheek.

"Please don't shut me out anymore, Finbarr," she said softly. "I want to shoulder those burdens with you. We don't have to do it all alone."

Instead of answering, he dipped his head, pressing his lips against her own. There was a question in the kiss, a tremulous hope that neither of them could voice aloud. She responded, her fingers curling into the front of his shirt. But then a cold wave of reality crashed into her. She remembered Peter. It wasn't fair to him to kiss Finbarr, especially with her own feelings still unresolved. She quickly drew back.

"Emma," his voice was low and urgent. "Please..."

"I—I have to go," she gasped, her heart practically throwing itself against her ribs. "I'm sorry, I just... I can't... Oh heavens."

She desperately wanted to stay, to be held by him once more, but her heart was in so much chaos that she didn't know what to do other than escape. Her feelings ran deep for Finbarr, but something else was blossoming inside of her for Peter, and she just didn't know how to make sense of it all yet.