Ma and Da's house was the largest in the family, most easily accommodating the entire family, even though the fit was a bit snug. Laughing children spread like wildfire around the home. At least a half dozen conversations buzzed about, one about Tavish finishing his harvest, another about a raccoon making off with one of Ryan's chickens, and Ciara spoke animatedly about adopting an orphan from the next town over. Finbarr heard it all. Whether or not he wanted to.

He sat cross-legged on the floor near the stove, the warmth soothing and gentle on his soul. He imagined that the stove was actually a fire, and that it crackled and danced in the waning sunlight. To anyone looking his way, it might have appeared strange for him to be staring absently at the stove, but to him, it was all just darkness anyway. It didn't matter either way.

He pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees. Everything ached. Especially his heart. His chest felt so constricted that each breath he attempted pained him.

"Now that's a long face if I ever saw one," Tavish said, taking a seat beside him on the ground. "This stove is mighty interesting, isn't it?"

"I'm not in the mood for your jokes." He turned his face to the other side, feeling the warmth from the stove on his cheek.

"Tisn't a joke," Tavish chuckled. "Cecily likes to sit next to the stove as well. I reckon there must be something fascinating about it that only blind people are privy to."

This time, his mouth twitched in amusement, though his heartache crashed over him once more, not able to stay away completely.

"Do you want to tell me why you're upset?"

He didn't want to talk about it at all, but there was no one in the world he was closer to than Tavish. It didn't matter that his brother was twelve years older than him. They were closer than a tight-knit sweater.

"I kissed Emma," he said quietly.

"You what? You haven't kissed anybody since Alice Brown."

The reminder didn't stick well with him, especially because he courted Alice over ten years ago before the fire happened. That was a very long time to go without kissing anybody. He was obviously out of practice, and he must have done something wrong to get a reaction like the one Emma had given him.

"I am so frustrated with her," Finbarr said, turning his face back toward his brother to make sure he heard his words. He spoke quietly so no one else could overhear their conversation. "The time we spend together is wonderful. But she leads me on, and then she pushes me back when I try to make an advance that I thought for sure would be welcome. It hurts, Tavish. It hurts so much."

"I know," Tavish said as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a reassuring squeeze. "It was the same with me and Katie. I unknowingly drove her straight into the arms of another man."

"That sounds awfully familiar," he muttered. "But I'm not blindsided like you were. I feel like no matter what I do, it's always wrong. I'm terrified she will choose Peter Kent, and that just makes me...so...angry. I am fighting my hardest for her. I am doing everything I possibly can. But it isn't enough. I don't understand why it's not enough."

Tavish didn't say anything for a few long moments, but finally he spoke. "The kiss didn't go well then?"

"Oh, no. It did. At first. But I have a feeling Peter somehow ruined it. I can't help but wonder if she's in love with him. And I...And I..." His shoulders slumped exhaustedly. "And I just don't want to keep fighting anymore. I love Emma with all my heart... But sometimes I don't think she realizes she's causing me pain. She's stringing me along. Courting me and Peter at the same time... Why is she waiting so long to make a decision?"

A crackle of firewood popped inside the stove, reminding him that there were plenty others inside the house as well. He didn't think anyone could hear their conversation, but he was worried that someone was watching them all the same.

"Women," Tavish muttered, nudging him with his elbow. "They have fickle hearts, they do. I'm glad to see you trying, though, and I think you should continue trying until Peter is gone from Hope Springs for good."

Finbarr frowned, clenching and unclenching his fists. "I wish I could make Peter leave a little earlier than the end of summer."

"Don't get into any trouble, Finbarr," Tavish warned. "You hear me?"

"Finbarr," his ma called across the room to him. "Can you deliver these eggs to Mrs. Johnson? I meant to give them to her earlier today, but time slipped away from me."

"Now?"

"Ma," Tavish said cautiously. "I don't think it's a good idea for Finbarr to go. I'll go."

With a roll of his eyes, he got to his feet. "I am fully capable of delivering some eggs, Tavish."

"It ain't the eggs I'm worried about."

He ignored his brother and held out his hand, and Ma placed the handle of a basket inside his fingers. From the weight of the basket, it seemed there were more things in there than just eggs.

His ma sent him off with a kiss on his cheek, and he called Grady to his side when he stepped out the door. From the lack of sunlight hitting his skin, he reckoned the sun had already gone down, but it was still early enough to make a delivery. Being outside did a world of good to clear his head, and he only thought about Emma three times on his way over to the Johnson's. It wasn't easy to expel her completely from his mind when he loved her as much as he did.

Grady's jingling collar sounded louder with his excitement, and he knew it meant they were nearing the Johnson's house. Carol often gave Grady a treat whenever they visited.

However, he didn't even reach the house when he heard the door open and close forcefully. He paused in his tracks as confusion hit him. Carol or Jeremiah would have called out to him. One of their children likely would have come running to play with Grady. Then who had opened the door?

"You kissed her?" Peter shouted, his tone thunderous. Finbarr held his ground despite the shock coursing through him. He had never heard Peter get angry before.

"Is that against the rules?" he countered, anger rising up inside of himself. He set the basket of eggs down to give him use of both his hands. He felt defenseless otherwise.

"I think I have been quite fair allowing Emma to court you as well. This is crossing the line." Peter gave his shoulders a shove, and immediately, Grady began growling as if he now saw Peter as a threat like Finbarr did.

Turning his head only slightly to the side, he ordered, "Grady, heel." The dog stopped growling, and he hoped that was enough to make the dog behave.

"Fair?" Finbarr scoffed. "You mean when you asked Emma to the barn raising when you undoubtedly knew I was just about to ask? Or when you monopolized Emma's time at the barn raising anyway? The only dance I got to dance with her was the one when Ivy switched partners."

He shoved Peter right back, his blood now boiling.

"So you kissed her to try to get back at me?" Peter asked, shoving him even harder. "It's not my fault you sulked in the corner the entire time."

"Sulked?" He returned Peter's shove. "I was not sulking. A blind man can only do so much in a loud barn."

"You had no right kissing her. I have put up with you for far too long now, O'Connor."

Finbarr's blood became too hot to handle. He threw the first punch right into Peter's face, and then chaos ensued. Grady started barking loudly when Peter threw the next punch. Finbarr heard it coming and only managed to duck enough for the punch to hit him in the shoulder. The Johnson's door opened and somebody shouted, but he was too occupied with his opponent to pay much attention.

Peter shoved him away before he clocked him in the jaw, and Finbarr realized he was too much out of his element. He couldn't see what Peter was about to do, but he paid attention to the sound of his shoes scuffing the dirt, and the pocket watch in Peter's coat jingled everytime he was about to throw another punch.

The other voice continued to yell, but Peter and Finbarr were too deep in the throes of their tussle. Finbarr sidestepped Peter's attack, feeling the other man's hand nearly graze his face. He took that opportunity to throw his fist into Peter's gut.

The pocket watch jingled again, and Finbarr knew another punch was coming. But something stopped Finbarr in his tracks. A hand. A soft hand on his chest.

Emma.

He knew Peter's attack was already too late to stop, and he reacted on instinct by grabbing Emma's hand and yanking her behind him. Not even a moment later, Peter's fist made contact with the side of Finbarr's head. He fell to his knees, his ears ringing with the blow. He couldn't get up.

He couldn't hear.

He panicked as he tried to climb to his feet, but he was so disoriented that he only fell back to his knees. The ringing was so loud. He couldn't hear.

He couldn't see. He couldn't hear.

Both Emma and Peter were completely forgotten as he tried to shake himself out of his fog. A hand touched his shoulder, but he brushed it away. He touched his ear, panic consuming him when he couldn't hear the sound. The ringing was too loud to hear anything else.

"Grady," he choked, but he couldn't hear his own voice either, he only felt the vibration of it in his throat. A moment later, his dog's fur brushed against him, and he blindly felt for Grady's collar. When his fingers brushed against it, he didn't hear the familiar jingles.

He latched his cane around Grady's collar and held onto the other end. When he attempted to stand again, he only managed to fall to his knees, disoriented as he was. But two more attempts later, he was on his feet. He ordered Grady to return home, and then he allowed the dog to lead him there. His panic heightened when he didn't hear the bells attached to his house, nor did he hear his own footsteps as he used his cane to guide him through his front door.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he focused on the ringing in his ears. He had experienced something similar before when he was about twelve years old, before he was even blind. He had fallen off a horse so hard that his ears had rung for an entire day. His hearing would come back. Surely it would come back.

Not being able to hear frightened him, more so than not being able to see. His ears rang incessantly, drowning out every single one of his senses. It was a terrifying experience to feel like he was underwater, not able to see or hear. His world had collapsed on him, but somehow he still remained standing.

Finbarr leaned heavily on the table as the weight of his burdens crashed down on him. He hadn't felt this burdened in a while.

He patted his ear, grateful to the heavens above that he could finally hear it. The ringing was beginning to die down, but slowly. Peter had really hit him hard. That surprised him. For someone who likely sat behind a desk for much of his day, he really was stronger than he ought to be.

Someone touched his hand, and he jumped out of his skin and stumbled backward into the wall. The person took both of his hands and placed them on her face, but he couldn't sigh in relief when he recognized Emma. Instead, his heartache pulsed just as loudly as his ringing ears.

"Finbarr," Emma said, her voice sounding far away. She squeezed his hands and led him to a chair to sit. She left momentarily but returned with what felt like a wet washcloth that she placed to the side of his face. Her voice hummed as she spoke, but he couldn't make out the words when the ringing was louder than her voice.

The minutes passed, and finally, the ringing died down to annoying buzz. He sighed, grateful when he could hear the sound escape his mouth. For a moment, he thought he might have been going deaf on top of being blind. It was reassuring to know that wasn't the case.

"Can you hear me now?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, taking the cloth from her and pressing it to his face himself. He didn't want her help. She had helped quite enough. "Why are you here?"

"I needed to know you were alright. That was a bad punch. Peter got a bloody nose, but it's not broken." She paused but then said, "Honestly, what got into you?"

He stood and clenched his teeth to prevent himself from yelling at her in frustration as he walked to the other side of the room. This was not a good time for her to be around him. With all his pent up emotions, he was bound to say something he didn't mean to say. But he had to say something. She needed to know this was not acceptable any longer.

"What got into me?" he asked, turning to face her. His tone turned sarcastic. "I don't know. Perhaps it's a woman who has claimed to love me but she's also throwing her love around like candy."

She didn't say anything to that, and for a moment, he thought he might have been too harsh. But he churned his words around in his mind and confirmed that those were the words he wanted to say. This had to end. She couldn't keep doing this to them. To him.

He set the cloth down to face her more fully. "You're stringing us along but Peter is too much of a gentleman to tell you that. You can't be with two men, Emma. You just can't. I respect Peter. He is a good man. But I also hate him to pieces, and I know he feels the same way about me."

"I'm sorry," she finally choked out, a sniff accompanying her words. She was crying. The last thing he ever wanted to do was make her cry. But this had to end. "I don't know what I want, Finbarr. Peter can give me a life away from Hope Springs. I can get a job as a teacher in Baltimore. I could feel like the work I do means something. I can be useful. And...and I have feelings for Peter. But I also have feelings for you. I have been happy in Hope Springs all my life, and I know I can continue to be happy here."

Finbarr shook his head, pacing to the other side of the room in an attempt to clear his head enough to speak without yelling. After his outburst with Emma ten years ago, he had been trying really hard to reign in his anger and frustration when it cropped up.

"I love you, Emma," he finally said. "I love you with all my heart. But..." He clenched his fists to try to hold his emotions in, but tears of frustration escaped anyway. Patting his heart, he choked out, "But I just can't take this anymore. I know it may not seem like it, but I have feelings too. And right now I am hurting so much."

"I never thought you didn't have feelings," she said. Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood, and he heard her footsteps come closer, but she stopped several feet away from him. "I never meant to cause you pain, Finbarr. Truly."

"I know, love," he whispered. "But you can't be with two men. Jealousy makes one's blood boil and makes them do wild things. I don't want to get in another fight with Peter over a woman who doesn't know what she wants. If I give you some space—"

"Finbarr, no," she sobbed, panic in her voice. "Please, no."

He swiped an arm across his eyes, knowing that his emotions weren't faring any better than hers. "You have to make a choice about Peter," he said, his heart aching more fiercely than it had in a very long time. "And I can't handle the heartache of it anymore. I can't be around to watch you make that decision."

"Don't leave me, Finbarr. Please."

"The harvest will keep me busy," he continued as if he hadn't heard her plea. "The end of summer is drawing near, which means you won't have much time left with—"

He couldn't finish that sentence when his voice cracked, and he had to place a hand over his eyes to give himself a moment to steal his emotions.

Emma touched his hand. "Finbarr..."

"Just leave," he said softly and not unkindly. His tone held a world of warmth and love.

She didn't reply, but rather ran from him and forcefully closed the front door behind her in her departure. Not able to handle the crushing weight on his heart any longer, he slumped into the chair at the table, and with his head hidden in his arms, he began to weep.