Healing Our Hearts

by Grace Roberts

  By the time I finally managed to reach the exit and drag my heavy luggage to the taxi rank, I was sweating. Luckily, chivalry wasn’t dead in the taxi-driver society, and when a middle-aged man came over and relieved me of my luggage I wanted to hug him.

  “How on earth could a little thing like you carry all of this weight?” he asked, hoisting my luggage and storing it into the trunk of the white sedan. Obviously, he wasn’t referring to my height, since I was five-feet eight, but rather to my lanky build. I’d never been chunky but I’d never been thin either—I was a normal girl all through my teenage years. After what happened with my mother though, I lost a good few pounds, and now I was way thinner than I liked. Hopefully my sharing the house with someone who’d remind me to eat would help me regain all the weight I’d involuntarily lost. It’d be nice to finally stop swimming in my own clothes.

  “Either you’re staying for a long while or you’re not a light traveler.” He grinned, closing the trunk with a loud thud. “Don’t know what it is with women always needing so much stuff. My wife always packs at least two suitcases for herself, even when we go away for a weekend.”

  “I’m moving from Kerry,” I said with a shrug, hoping it would be enough of an explanation for him, and opened the door to get inside. I didn’t really feel like chatting with him right now. I wanted to enjoy the view of the familiar city streets I’d come to learn so well after living here for four years, and get my bearings before I reached what would be my new home.

  I gave him the destination and he left the station, plunging into the city traffic. I hadn’t been back since I left Galway two years ago, but so far everything looked just the same as I remembered. We passed the famous Eyre Square and I noticed it was crowded, as usual, with tourists taking pictures and locals strolling along the paths across the trees and manicured flowerbeds. We turned left at the traffic light on the corner of the square, and headed toward the docks. I rolled down the window and breathed in the scent of salt and fish, while seagulls squawked and fought with one another over a fish. The taxi drove across the bridge, and we left the Spanish Arch and the Latin Quarter with all the pubs and shops behind as we headed toward Salthill, where my new home would be.

  When the car stopped in front of a two-story brick house in a quiet cul-de-sac, reality finally kicked in. This would be my new home for a while—at least until I had the funds to afford a house for myself or until my landlady and friend, Ciara, decided she’d had enough of having a housemate and kicked me out. Even though I really hoped this wouldn’t be the case. We’d had fun sharing a room back in college; sharing a house, with our own separate rooms, should be even better.

  While I was checking out the house and my surroundings, the driver carried my suitcases up the three steps to the front door, and even though I was a little short on money and should be careful not to spend it carelessly, I told him to keep the five-euro change he’d well earned.

  I rang the bell, and a second later, footsteps shuffled toward the entrance. The door opened, followed by a shriek, and before I could even say hello I was wrapped in a bone-crushing hug, bouncing up and down in time with my friend.

  “It’s so good to see you again, Claire!” Ciara squealed, nearly piercing my eardrums. I’d forgotten how exuberant she was. “I’ve missed being roomie with you—although technically we won’t be sharing a room anymore.” She giggled and flailed her arms, urging me inside.

  “Come in. How’s your trip been? Oh, and when did you say your stuff would be arriving?”

  I’d also forgotten Ciara talked non-stop. She took a step toward me, lifted my bigger suitcase and groaned.

  “Jaisus, are you carrying a dead body inside this suitcase? I thought you said you’d be travelling light, but I guess you were talking about yourself, since you look like you’ve just been freed from a concentration camp. I’ll have to stuff you like a goose!”

  I couldn’t help laughing at her statement. Being alone with my mother for the past two years—save for the occasional visits from my aunt—I’d forgotten how good it felt to spend some time with someone so lively and cheerful. I’d forgotten how good it felt to laugh and act like a carefree twenty-three-year-old, living for the moment and not worrying about the future. Moving in with Ciara was going to help me get back on my feet and press the play button for my life that had been in stand-by mode for too long.

  “Let me in, and we can catch up over a cup of tea. What do you say?”

  “I say, hell yes!” she shouted, fist pumping the air. She moved aside to let me into my new home, and as soon as the door closed with a click, a dog yapped in another room. A moment later a small black and beige fur ball came running toward us.

  “And who’s this?” I asked as it stopped by my feet, looking up with his tongue lolling out as if he’d just run a mile. Considering the size of his paws, it might as well have felt like it to the poor pup.

  “This is Robbie. My boyfriend gave him to me on Valentine’s Day. He won’t get much bigger than this. He’s a Morkie: half Maltese and half Yorkshire, or something like that.”

  I smiled, and stared down at him for a moment. He was rather adorable, and I was sure we’d be best friends before long.

  “You’re not allergic or scared, are you? If you are, I could buy him a shed or something and leave him outside if you—”

  “No, it’s okay,” I reassured her with a headshake. “I’ve always wanted a puppy, but Mum was allergic to animal fur so we could never have pets. It’ll be nice to finally have one.”

  Ciara grinned and picked Robbie up, scratched his tiny head and brought him close to her face.

  “He’s a good boy—much cleaner than a man. Aren’t you, baby?” She spoke in a funny voice that people normally used with little children, and I couldn’t help smiling. “And he doesn’t leave the seat up.” She winked, and I laughed—something I hadn’t done in so long it almost felt unnatural now.

  “So, Robbie, huh? He’s not by any chance named after Robbie Williams, is he?”

  Ciara grinned again. Leave it to her to use the name of her favorite artist for her dog.

  With Robbie still clutched to her chest like a teddy bear, Ciara walked down the corridor and I left my suitcases by the stairs on the right, before following her into a nice, modern kitchen, with lacquered burgundy cupboards and a huge double door fridge. Being the kitchen fanatic I was, I was already in love with my new house, and I didn’t care what my bedroom was like if I could cook in such a fantastic kitchen.

  “Wow, this is fabulous.”

  Ciara switched the kettle on, put Robbie down and turned toward me, beaming.

  “It’s quite something, isn’t it? Too bad I’m a terrible cook.” She scrunched up her nose, and I smiled.

  “I’d be happy to do the cooking, if you do the dishes instead.”

  Ciara nodded and reached out her hand. “Deal.”

  We shook and giggled like teenagers, then Ciara showed me where all the kitchen appliances, dishes and cutlery were before we finally sat on the high stools at the kitchen counter with our mugs.

  “So how was your trip to Dublin? Did you get everything sorted?”

  I nodded and stared at the bright red mug in my hands. After my mother’s funeral in February, I hadn’t really been in the frame of mind to take care of anything other than packing up my life and calling the movers to deliver most of my stuff to Ciara’s house. Once everything in Tralee had been taken care of, including leaving the sale of the house in the capable hands of an estate agent, I’d taken the bus to Dublin and spent a few days with my mother’s sister to sign a few papers and assist in the reading of my mother’s will.

  “Mum had already arranged most of the financial and bureaucratic stuff with an old friend of my aunt’s who’s an attorney in Dublin, so it all went rather quick and smooth.” I took a sip of tea, and hoped it would help me swallow the lump that had formed in my throat. My mother had been gone for more than six months now, but I’d been so busy with everything
that it had never felt final until the attorney shook my hand and said goodbye. Talking about her made it real—and painful.

  “What’s in the suitcase, anyway? It’s so heavy, I’m surprised your arm didn’t get pulled out of the socket while you dragged it behind you.”

  I’d forgotten how good Ciara was at reading people. Being a psychology student, she’d always enjoyed using me as her guinea pig when we were college roomies, and I had to admit she was really good. I was sure once she finished her postgraduate studies and became a board-certified psychologist, her patients would love her.

  Right now, I was grateful for the way she understood how much it still hurt to talk about it and had deftly changed the subject.

  “My aunt insisted on giving me something for my new house,” I said, smiling as I recalled the pride on my aunt’s face when she’d given me my grandmother’s inheritance. “She gave me some linens and stuff my grandmother embroidered. A sort of family legacy to be passed on, from mother to daughter.”

  Ciara smiled. “That’s sweet.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Some of it is a little old-fashioned, not something I’d use in my house, but there’s a nice crocheted blanket that’ll come in handy in winter.” I took another sip of the hot drink. It wasn’t that weird to be drinking tea in August, especially not in Galway, where the winds coming from the Atlantic made even a summer sunny day feel cold. “What about you? I take it you’re still dating that guy you met last Christmas? This must be the longest relationship you’ve had so far.”

  Ciara’s face brightened. Oh my, she was in love. I’d never seen that dreamy expression on her face when she was dating someone. This guy must be good, if she’d kept him around for eight months.

  “Aidan, yes. The one and only. You’ll meet him soon enough; he lives just outside the city, so most of the time when we hit the town, he spends the night so he doesn’t have to drive all the way back to his apartment.”

  I hoped the house had thick walls. The last thing I wanted was to hear Ciara and her boyfriend’s antics at night.

  “Feel free to have guys stay over, if you want. This is your house too, now.” She looked at me with a smirk, no doubt waiting to see if I’d take the bait and spill the beans. Smooth, Ciara.

  “Thank you, but no thank you. I’m off men.”

  Ciara frowned. “As in, you’re playing for the other team now?”

  My cheeks flushed red hot, and I shook my head vehemently. “No, no, I’m still… interested in men, I just don’t want to have one. My last experience lasted for a lifetime.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  I shrugged. “Long story.”

  “We’ve got all the time in the world, roomie.” She grinned, before standing up and fumbling inside a cupboard for a moment. When she turned back, holding a box of Butler’s chocolates, I knew there’d be no escape. Chocolate had always been the comfort food we’d stick to whenever we had to discuss something serious or tearful. I’d have to tell her the whole story about Peter or she’d never let me out of the kitchen. In a way, I felt bad that I hadn’t talked about him with my best friend in all this time, but at the time I’d wanted to forget and with taking care of my mum being my main focus, I’d let it go. It was high time I opened up.

  I reached for a white chocolate, popped it into my mouth and braced myself for our chat. She hadn’t studied psychology for nothing, after all. Maybe talking about it with a friend who was also a professional might help me see things differently—or at least I hoped it would. I was too young to turn into a total spinster, and becoming a nun was out of the question. I only needed someone to help me restore my faith in men again.

  Buy the book

  Also by Grace Roberts

  Titles in Kindle Unlimited

  A Love Melody (Melody, #1)

  A Christmas Melody (Melody, #2)

  Finding Our Hearts (Irish Hearts, #2)

  Hold On To Love (standalone country romance)

  A Trip With Destiny (Destiny’s Cove, #1)

  A Brush With Love (Destiny’s Cove, #2)

  Love In Spring series:

  No End To Love (Love in Spring, #1)

  Unplanned Love (Love in Spring, #2)

  Find the full list on my website: authorgraceroberts.com/books

  Acknowledgments

  Wow. My second book. It seems like yesterday I conquered my fears and published my debut novel and here I am again writing new acknowledgments seven months later.

  So many things have happened in these seven months as a published author. I feel I’ve grown up so much both as a writer and as a person. I’ve met lots of wonderful people along the way; people who share my same passion for books and for writing and who’ve been supportive and helpful. For this reason, I want to thank God for making my path cross with theirs and for supporting me on this amazing journey that keeps getting better with each passing day.

  I’d also like to thank my editor, amazing Lauren McKellar, who’s been extremely patient and very professional, and helped me turn a raw gem into a true diamond. I’m in love with the book now even more than I was before. Thank you for telling me how to show—and you know exactly what I mean! I’ve loved your useful suggestions and your funny comments and I look forward to working with you again. PS: How’s life Down Under? LOL!

  A big thank you to Najla, at Najla Qamber Designs for the beautiful cover. I love working with you!

  And thank you, reader—yes, you, who are reading this now, because if you are, it means you bought the book and this is enough to brighten up my day.

  About the Author

  Grace Roberts writes heartwarming stories set in Ireland or in small towns in the United States—two places where she’d love to live while writing full-time. She’s also an avid reader who thinks daydreaming should be a paid profession and that the world would be a better place if bookworms ruled it.

  Growing up as an only child, she spent all her free time with her nose stuck in books, enjoying the company of fictional friends, while dreaming of becoming an author. Discovering books by Rosamunde Pilcher was the turning point in her life, and she decided to start writing down the stories that kept playing in her head, just for fun. After the first couple of stories, though, she found it impossible to stop—and she’s been writing ever since.

  Visit her website https://authorgraceroberts.com to find all the links to her books and the social media she’s active on, and subscribe to her newsletter to make sure you’re always up-to-date with her new releases, special sales or giveaways.

  Join “Sweet Happy Endings”, her group of readers on Facebook: bit.ly/GracesGroup