“I could write a book on that,” Kiera said, thinking of her sons.
Megan studied her. “We’re not talking about Moira anymore, are we?”
Kiera shook her head. “You met my sons in Ireland.”
“And you’re worried about them?”
“At my wit’s end,” Kiera admitted. “To be honest, it was a blessing when Moira encouraged me to come here. I was getting nowhere with either of them, and the worry was almost more than I could bear.”
Megan gave her a knowing look. “Are you any less worried with the distance between you?”
“No, but at least I’m not wasting my breath trying to talk sense into them, only to have it thrown back in my face. I’ve had to bail them both out of trouble a time too many. They need to learn to deal with the consequences of their actions.”
Even as she made the very firm declaration, she couldn’t seem to stop the tears that welled in her eyes at the memory of walking away the last time they’d been jailed for their drunken behavior.
“Kiera, I’m so sorry,” Megan said, clasping her hand. “Is there anything I can do? Would you want them here? I’m sure Mick would find work for them.”
“As much as I’d like to see them have a fresh start, they need to learn their lesson first. And I wouldn’t want my father worrying every minute that they’d only continue their bad behavior here and bring shame on all of us.”
“People do deserve second chances, though,” Megan reminded her. “I got one from my family.”
“Were you spending your days drunk and your evenings in brawls that got you kicked out of every pub you entered?”
Megan winced. “It’s that bad?”
“Worse,” Kiera said. “They’re their father’s sons, no question about it. It’s clear I should have kicked Sean Malone to the curb much sooner.”
“I thought he left when they were very young,” Megan said. “That’s the impression Moira gave us. She said she never really knew her father at all.”
“Because I kept her away from him, but the boys went looking for him and found him to be a jovial drinking pal. Sean’s influence by then was far stronger than my own.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Kiera saw the genuine sympathy in Megan’s eyes and wondered at the friendship being offered by this woman whose life had been so different from her own. “Thank you for listening. It’s not something I’ve wanted to burden my father or Moira with.”
“Well, I’m around whenever you need to talk. And anything you tell me will stay just between us.” She glanced at her watch. “And now I’d better be getting to work. The gallery should have been open fifteen minutes ago.”
When Kiera would have stood, Megan shook her head. “Stay and have another cup of coffee and one of Sally’s chocolate croissants. I know those are your favorite. I’ve seen you looking longingly at my leftovers. Sometimes there’s just no reason for restraint. You’ll feel better with a little chocolate in your system.”
Kiera sat back, taking the suggestion to heart. “I believe I will.”
“I’ll tell Sally on my way out.”
Moments later, with a fresh cup of coffee and a chocolate croissant in front of her, Kiera realized she did feel considerably better than she had. She wasn’t sure if that was because of the chocolate, the friendship Megan had offered or simply unburdening herself for the first time about the sons who’d strayed so far from the men she’d hoped they’d become.
Chapter 9
Even though she hadn’t set foot in the pub all day long, Bryan hadn’t been able to get Kiera out of his head. One minute he was annoyed that she’d once more tried to give him unsolicited advice. The next he felt oddly warmed by the offer of friendship. That she was so willing to make the effort with him, despite his often surly attitude, suggested she was either astonishingly kind or a glutton for punishment. He wanted to believe it was the latter, because genuine kindness was something that had been in short supply in recent years, mostly because he’d done his very best to discourage it.
Kiera, however, clearly wasn’t someone he was going to be able to keep at a distance. It wasn’t just the physical proximity of her cottage. It seemed it was her nature to ignore barriers or to keep pushing at them till they fell.
He recalled Moira, worrying that her mother was returning to the time when she’d been closed off, lonely and bitter, something to which he could totally relate. Just his luck that she’d apparently changed. Just his luck that she’d apparently developed the same stubborn streak that made Luke’s life with Moira so challenging.
Though he hadn’t realized he was doing it intentionally, in an attempt to avoid another disturbing encounter, he stayed at the pub well past closing. When Luke paused to question him on his way out, Bryan insisted he had things to organize in the kitchen, supplies that needed to be checked and an order to prepare. Given the skeptical expression on Luke’s face, Bryan concluded he might have overdone the list of chores.
“Is that so?” Luke asked, glancing around the spotless kitchen in which not a single thing seemed to be out of place. Then his gaze drifted to the well-stocked shelves with only a scattering of empty spots.
“You gave me an order earlier,” he commented, his tone casual, but his eyes dancing with humor.
“And now I’m telling you it might not be complete,” Bryan said irritably. “We had a big crowd tonight. I used a lot of our staples. Now we’re running low.”
“On?”
Bryan scowled at him. “Are you questioning my assessment of what’s needed to run this kitchen?”
Luke grinned at that. “Never,” he said at once. “I’m questioning your skill at fibbing, either to me or yourself. You don’t seem to want to leave here tonight. I’m wondering why. It wouldn’t be because Kiera’s right next door and you’re hoping she’ll be safely tucked in bed and therefore no temptation, is it?”
“Kiera has nothing to do with anything,” Bryan insisted emphatically, which only seemed to make Luke’s grin spread.
“Whatever you say,” his boss commented with a knowing look. “Just be sure to lock up when you do leave.”
“So you’re done badgering me?” Bryan asked, startled.
“For tonight anyway,” Luke responded. “Unless you’d really like to sit down and talk this through, man-to-man.”
Bryan rolled his eyes at the offer. He’d stopped discussing girl troubles with his buddies in ninth grade. “Nothing to discuss.”
“Then I’m going home to my wife, whom I’m happy to admit I’m eager to see.”
“Have a good night, then,” Bryan said, his relief plain, though he held his breath until Luke was out of sight and he heard the front door of the pub close and the lock turn. Then he released a heartfelt sigh, well aware that his escape from the knowing looks and intrusive questions was only temporary. O’Briens, from everything he’d observed in recent years, seldom kept their noses out of others’ business for long. And heaven forbid that Mick O’Brien scent even a whiff of romance. He was the absolute worst of all with his meddling.
*
Sitting in the shadows outside her cottage, Kiera heard Bryan’s car as it drove in, saw the glow of the headlights go out and then heard what sounded like a muffled curse as he came into view.
“You’re still up,” he said, sounding not the least bit happy about it.
“I am, and since we’re stating the obvious, you’re later than usual. Any problems at the pub?”
“No, I just had some things to finish up,” he claimed.
Kiera didn’t entirely believe him, but she let it go. “I’m having a glass of wine,” she said. “Would you like one?”
“Are you sure you want company?” he asked. “Especially mine? We parted on a bad note this morning.”
“A common enough happening,” she retorted. “I can suffer with the company, if you’ll tell me why you took off so abruptly. I know I ask too many questions sometimes. Did I hit a nerve again?”
His
laugh sounded forced. “You should probably know that I’m a bundle of nerves. It makes me an easy target to hit.”
Kiera stood up. “I’ll get you a glass of wine and perhaps you’ll tell me how that came about.”
“Or not,” he said, his tone wistful.
She paused, looked into his troubled eyes, then nodded. “Okay, then. I can leave it alone for now. We’ll just have a chat about inconsequential things or say nothing at all.”
When she came back with his wine, he’d finally settled into the chair beside hers, his long, denim-clad legs crossed at the ankles. He accepted the wine in silence, then glanced her way. “On nights like this, with a full moon and stars scattered about in a pitch-black sky, I can almost believe it’s possible to find peace.”
Kiera nodded in perfect understanding. “I’ve just been thinking much the same thing.”
He regarded her with surprise. “Are you in need of finding peace, Kiera?”
“Isn’t everyone to one degree or another? If life’s chaotic enough on a daily basis, the idea of calm holds great appeal.”
He smiled at the evasive answer. “Now who’s dodging the personal questions?”
“Not dodging them,” she insisted. “Just trying not to spoil a rare moment of agreement between us.”
She waited several minutes, allowing the night’s soothing calm to steal over them before saying, “I noticed your garden earlier. Would you mind if I helped out with some weeding sometime?”
She held her breath, anticipating an immediate rejection. Normally the thought of her invading his space would have annoyed him, but tonight his mood seemed mellower, so she concluded it was a chance worth taking. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as territorial about his garden as he was about his kitchen at the pub.
Instead of objecting to her request just on principle, he asked, “Do you enjoy gardening?”
She nodded. “Though it’s not as if I’m any sort of expert. I only had a tiny bit of space in Ireland, nothing like what you have here, so I only grew a few herbs, many of them in pots sitting in the wee bit of sun they’d get on my back steps, but I found it soothing.”
He smiled at that. “And I find it practical, which just shows even when we have something in common, we’re coming at it from different perspectives.”
“Does that mean we have to be at odds on this, too?”
“No, the two views can be compatible, I suppose. And I can admit that I like the feel of the sun on my shoulders when I work in the garden and the feel of the soil on my hands. But I also appreciate knowing that the vegetables I’ve grown are going into the food I prepare at the pub, that my ingredients are organic and grown close by, so they’re as fresh as they can possibly be.”
“There’s a movement toward that, isn’t there?” Kiera asked, trying to recall what she’d read.
“Farm to table,” Bryan replied. “Restaurants have been built around the concept. Most chefs rely on nearby farmers and markets to meet that goal. Here, for me, it’s been even more satisfying to know that much of the produce I use I actually grow myself. And what I don’t have room to grow, I get from a couple of local farmers I’ve gotten to know. Our eggs and milk are supplied locally, too. And, of course, you already know that our fish are freshly caught in local waters and picked up at the docks on the day we serve them.”
Kiera was surprised by the enthusiasm in his voice, the rare passion. She’d known plenty of cooks over the years. This was her first experience with an honest-to-goodness trained chef, a man who cared deeply about the food he served. Perhaps she hadn’t been giving Bryan enough credit. He might not have the experience with Irish dishes that she or Nell had, but she shouldn’t be doubting that the commitment he’d made to the quality of ingredients he used carried over to getting the recipes just right, as well.
“You’re suddenly awfully quiet.”
“I’ve a feeling that I’ve misjudged you,” she admitted. “I’ve accused you of being careless and inexperienced.”
“Walking into a kitchen filled with smoke rather than the delicious aromas you were expecting could have given you that impression,” he conceded, his tone wry.
“That only happened the one time,” she said. “Anyone could have an off night.” Because it seemed only right to admit to her own flaws, she added, “Ask my children how often their evening meal consisted of a grilled cheese sandwich, because I grew distracted and let the meal I’d planned overcook. Interestingly, it happened most often on the nights I was preparing something they didn’t particularly like.” She chuckled. “I just realized that. I’ll have to ask Moira if it was an intentionally devious game they learned to play with me, asking questions about homework just when I should have been standing at the stove paying close attention.”
Bryan faced her, his expression startled. “Is that an olive branch, Kiera?”
“Perhaps.” She smiled. “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see what tomorrow brings.”
He lifted his glass and waited until she’d lifted hers as well, then clinked the two together. “To peace and harmony.”
“To peace and harmony,” she said, feeling the oddest sense of something shifting between them.
When he stood to go, regret stole over her, but she forced another smile. “Good night, Bryan.”
“Sleep well, Kiera.”
Once again as he walked away, he paused and turned back, just as he had that morning. “If you’re wanting to weed the garden, you’re welcome,” he said. “But if I find you can’t tell a weed from a tomato plant, we’ll be having a discussion about it.”
She regarded him very solemnly. “If I have any doubts, I’ll ask before I yank something from the ground. Your tomatoes will be safe, I promise.”
Quite likely a lot safer than her heart, which suddenly seemed to be opening to possibilities yet again. Her relationship with Peter had begun in just such a way, with baby steps and fragile trust. Did she dare risk such a thing happening again, especially with a man whose secrets had made him so wary?
*
Deanna had taken her anatomy textbook to her favorite bench beneath a huge oak tree on the university campus with every intention of studying for tomorrow’s final, but she couldn’t seem to focus. She’d been staring at the same page for an hour now, more aware of the mild spring sun filtering through the leaves than of any of the information she was supposed to be memorizing.
When a shadow fell across the book, she looked up to see her roommate studying her with a worried expression.
“Either you’re totally fascinated by how the knee bone connects to the thigh bone or there’s something else on your mind. I’ve been standing here for at least five minutes,” Juliette complained. “It was the same when you got back yesterday, as if you were off in another world.”
She sat down without waiting for an invitation, then held out a square of Dove dark chocolate, their indulgence when studying. “You look as if you need this. I have more in my purse, if there’s a real crisis.”
Deanna managed a smile. “Always prepared. Were you a Girl Scout, Jules?”
“I think that’s the Boy Scout motto, but when it comes to chocolate, I’m never without it, as you should know after two years of rooming together. So what’s going on? I know you saw Dr. Robbins before you took off for the weekend. Did she give you bad news?”
“Quite the contrary. She said I was fine, just tired and overwhelmed with finals. She advised me to take a break.”
“And that’s why you suddenly decided to go home?”
“Pretty much.”
Juliette gave her a disappointed look. “I know you think I’m just some flighty airhead who only came to college to nab a husband, but I’m your friend, Dee. I can’t help, though, if you won’t open up. What’s going on? And I can tell this is about more than finals. If that’s all it was, you’d be turning the pages of that book like crazy. I watched you last night and just now. You’re still staring at the same page.”
Deanna sighed. As muc
h as she could probably use a friend right now, she wasn’t quite ready to talk about Ash’s revelations. Instead, she said, “I told my stepfather I’m not coming home to work for his company this summer.”
Juliette’s eyes went wide. “Wow! That’s huge. How did he take the news?”
“I think he was okay with it.” She frowned. “It’s not as if I really gave him a choice. I just said it was what I was going to do.”
“I thought you were worried about disappointing him.”
“I was, but this is something I have to do, and that’s what I told him,” she said, making it sound far less complicated than it had been. She hoped Juliette wasn’t perceptive enough to see through her nonchalance.
“Okay, so this is what you’ve been telling me for weeks now that you really wanted to do. You’ve told your stepfather and he’s okay with it. Why don’t you look happier? Or at least relieved to have the discussion behind you?”
“Maybe reality’s setting in and I’m just seeing that changing directions like this is a whole lot scarier than I thought it would be,” she said carefully. She thought that sounded perfectly plausible, but she could read the skepticism in her roommate’s eyes. Behind that airhead persona was a straight-A student with a kind and generous heart and better intuition than Deanna had credited her with.
“You’re one of the bravest, most determined people I know,” Juliette said. “Why the second thoughts? Were you counting on your stepfather to stop you?”
Deanna actually paused to consider that possibility. It would have been less scary to stay on the road they’d always assumed she’d travel. Now, though, after this past weekend, it simply wasn’t possible. Too much had changed forever.
“You could be right,” she admitted. “Maybe on some level, I was hoping he’d say no and I’d do the safe thing, but it would have been the wrong choice. I wasn’t that excited by any of my business courses, and while I loved going to work with Ash when I was little and could wear the little hard hat he’d bought me, construction wasn’t in my blood, as it was in his.” She was confident of that much at least. And now she had all sorts of reasons to go to Baltimore that were even more compelling.
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