The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

rest of the afternoon. Trev.
    She’d certainly put herself in his hands the night before, she thought now and contentedly settled back against the pillows. What a lovely, lovely way to wake, she mused and stroked the rosebud against her cheek. She considered wandering down for breakfast, or being completely indulgent and ordering it up so she could have it in bed like royalty.
    The second picture had such appeal that she reached for the phone. When it rang, she jerked back, then laughed at herself.
    She didn’t think she was supposed to answer it, so she climbed out of bed for her robe. The knock on her door came as she was belting it.
    “Yes, come in.”
    “Excuse me, Miss Gallagher, but Mr. Magee’s on the telephone and would like to speak with you.”
    “Of course, thank you.” Darcy picked up the rose again and feeling blissfully romantic and lazy, lifted the receiver. “Trevor, hello. I’ve just read your note, and I’d be happy to put myself in your hands.”
    “I’m on my way back now.”
    “This minute? It’s a while till two.”
    “Darcy, I have to get back to Ardmore right away. Mick O’Toole’s been injured on the job.”
    “Injured?” She leaped to her feet. “How? Is he all right? What happened?”
    “He took a fall. He’s in the hospital. I just heard and I don’t have all the details.”
    “I’ll be ready to go when you get here. Hurry.”
    She hung up without another word, dragged out her suitcase, and began throwing clothes inside.
    The trip back seemed hideously long. Darcy alternated between praying and listening to Trevor as he gathered more details about the accident.
    “He was up on the scaffolding,” Trevor told her. “One of the crew tripped, as far as we can tell, and Mick was knocked off or slipped off. He was unconscious when the ambulance came for him.”
    “But alive.” Her knuckles went white as she locked her hands together.
    “Yes, Darcy.” He took her hands, soothing them apart. “They think concussion and a broken arm. They’ll have to check for internal injuries.”
    “Internal injuries.” Her stomach rolled, then went to slippery knots. “That always sounds so dire, so mysterious.” When her voice broke, she shook her head. “No, I’m not going to fall apart on you. Don’t worry.”
    “I didn’t realize you were so close.”
    “He’s like family.” Tears rushed into her eyes and were viciously willed away. “The closest thing to my own father. Brenna . . . all of them, they must be frantic. I should be there.”
    “You will be.”
    “I want to go straight to the hospital. Can you arrange for a car to take me there?”
    “We’ll both go straight there.”
    “Oh, I thought you’d need to go to the job. All right.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes, took several breaths. “I’m scared. I’m so awfully scared.”
    He put his arm around her and held her until they landed.
    And he watched her gather herself, steady herself on the drive from the airport. Her eyes were dry and calm, her hands quiet in her lap. By the time they arrived and walked down the corridor where they were directed, she was completely composed.
    “Mrs. O’Toole.”
    Mollie looked over, rose from where she sat with all five of her daughters. “Oh, Darcy, there you are—and had to cut your lovely trip short.”
    “Tell me how he is, won’t you?” She took Mollie’s hands, held fast and tried not to think that both Maureen and Mary Kate were crying.
    “Well, now, he took a bump. They’re doing some tests on his head and so forth. You know the man has a mighty strong head, so we’re not going to worry about that.”
    “Of course not.” She gave Mollie’s chilled hands a squeeze. “Why don’t I see about getting us all some fresh tea? You just sit down now, darling, while I organize that for you. Brenna, why don’t you give me a hand with it and we’ll get us all a nice hot cup.”
    “Bless you, Darcy, that would be a godsend. Mr. Magee.” Mollie worked up a tremulous smile. “It’s so kind of you to be here.”
    He met Brenna’s eyes as she rose, nodded, then took Mollie’s hand and led her back to a chair.
    “Tell me what happened,” Darcy demanded the minute they were out of earshot. “And how bad it is.”
    “I didn’t see it, exactly.” Because her voice felt rusty, Brenna cleared her throat. “It seems Bobby Fitzgerald lost his footing while he was hauling block up on the scaffold. Dad turned, I think, to steady him, but they