Made With Love: I Love You Forever

by M. K. Shaddix

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Sure I’m sure!’ Bridie smooths her hair and rolls her shoulders back. ‘How’s things at St Enda’s?’

  ‘You wouldn’t believe it, Bridie. We had to work all night to keep up with the orders!’

  ‘Lord.’

  ‘We’re buying up a third of the island’s milk, and it’s only going up. At this rate, Kieran can tell the Germans to--’ I glance round for the nurses, ‘feck off.’

  ‘Go way!’ Bridie pats at my hand.

  ‘Well, maybe.’

  ‘That’s mighty. And how are things with your own business? And your partner. What’s her name?’

  I bite at the inside of my cheek. ‘Kate. She thinks I’m bailing on her.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘No.’

  Bridie squints down her nose at me.

  ‘Okay, a bit. The thing is, I spent the money for the deposit on our new office to buy the milk from the co-op. Now we’ve lost the office, and I’m pretty sure I’ve lost my best friend.’

  ‘You jeopardized all of this? For us?’ Bridie asks.

  I nod at her. ‘All I need is two more days. I’ll have everything settled with Kieran. It’ll be like none of this ever happened.’

  ‘But it did happen,’ she chuckles. ‘And whether Kate forgives you or not, what’s happened, with the girls, with Clare, with Michael, you can’t take back any of that.’

  I bury my head in my hands. ‘I thought I knew who I was and what I wanted, but now… I’m not sure of anything! If only my mom or dad were here…’ I trail off.

  ‘I’m here,’ Bridie says and clasps my hand. ‘Come here to me,’ she smiles and leans into my ear. ‘Is there something that happened with a fine-looking young doctor?’

  I flush instantly. ‘He asked me to dinner.’

  ‘Well now, isn’t that lovely!’ Bridie cheers.

  ‘At his parents’,’ I say.

  ‘Ah,’ Bridie smiles. ‘In my day, the lads would go round with the girls, same as now, but if he asked you to meet his family, well,’ she says.

  ‘Well what?’ I prod.

  ‘He intended to marry her,’ Bridie smiles. I almost keel over the edge of the bed, but Bridie steadies me. ‘But times have changed!’ she laughs.

  ‘I’m not ready for anything even close to this!’ I say, my face knitted with uneasiness.

  ‘Ah, but you like him!’ Bridie says. ‘What’s the worry?’

  ‘We’re from different worlds!’ I cry out. ‘Even the little things--it just wouldn’t work. I mean, where would we live?!’

  Bridie smiles reassuringly at me. ‘Love makes its own home,’ she says.

  Bridie’s words stand out like a fire on a dark ridge in my mind. They light my way home to Clare’s, where I slip on a delicate vintage dress and they spur me up the craggy lane to the Reillys’ cottage. Michael is in the front garden, digging spuds with a hand trowel.

  ‘Heya!’ He wipes his hands on his jeans and hugs me with his wrists. ‘You look smashing.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I glance at the house, skittish as a wild cat.

  ‘You alright?’ Michael asks.

  ‘You’re sure this is a good idea?’

  ‘Come on,’ he says and closes his fingers around my wrist. ‘My folks are easy as. You shouldn’t be nervous.’

  ‘That’s not it,’ I say. ‘This…’ I gesture back and forth between us. ‘Is this just dinner?’

  Michael grins at me. ‘Yeah, what else? Mum’s mad to meet the lady who’s inherited her old bike.’

  ‘Hmmm.’

  ‘Come on.’ He leads me through the garden and into the house.

  It’s bigger than Clare and Dermot’s, much bigger, and filled with heavy Nordic looking furniture and vibrant wool rugs. I’m glad I went for the dress and not the jeans.

  ‘Oh hello,’ Mrs. Reilly croons as soon as we step into the dining room. She kisses both my cheeks (without actually touching me) and tells me to call her Carmel.

  ‘Not Cara-mel,’ Niall says from the kitchen. ‘She hates that.’

  Michael squeezes my hand encouragingly as we gather around a richly laid table--roast sirloin with honeyed carrots and new boiled spuds. My mouth would be watering if it wasn’t for the knot in my stomach.

  ‘Whereabouts do you live in New York?’ Niall asks as he carves the meat.

  ‘Brooklyn,’ I say. ‘I work uptown.’ Did work uptown.

  ‘Ah, very good. You must make good money in marketing so!’ he says, and Carmel swats at him playfully.

  ‘Don’t listen to my husband,’ she says. ‘He’s an accountant. It’s always about money.’

  ‘Now,’ Niall wheels about in mock defense. ‘It’s about professional fulfillment!’ He turns to his son. ‘Look at Michael! He’s been mucking around on this island for ten years, and all the time offers coming in for him to work in a proper surgery in the UK! Make a name for himself and then settle back home.’

  Michael smirks at his father, then turns to me. ‘He wants me out of the house.’

  ‘You know that’s not it at all!’ Carmel says.

  ‘I did go ahead and accept the invitation to that conference in London,’ he says. Niall nods approvingly.

  ‘Oh? When’s this?’ I wince unintentionally.

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  Thanks for the heads up!

  ‘I’ll be showcasing the research I’ve done here. On the island,’ Michael says.

  Wonder Boy lectures? That’s a shocker.

  His father crooks his head at me. ‘I keep telling him Inishmore is not the place to build a career. I’m sure you agree!’ he says.

  I hesitate, Carmel’s pin prick eyes hard on me. ‘I don’t know,’ I say at last.

  ‘Mum. Roast is gorgeous,’ Michael says evidently trying to change the subject.

  ‘Thank you, Michael.’

  ‘Shame that Julie’s a vegetarian,’ he says.

  Niall and Carmel freeze and gape at me.

  ‘I’m not.’ I kick Michael under the table.

  ‘I wouldn’t know what to make one way or the other,’ Carmel says coolly, ‘for a sophisticated girl, like yourself.’ She takes a curt sip of wine. ‘I’d always hoped Michael would find a nice, local girl myself.’

  ‘Mum,’ Michael harps.

  I make a face at Michael and swill back my pinot.

  ‘Get your wife locally, and sell your cow far away,’ Niall laughs.

  I spear one of my carrots. Two can play at this game! ‘That is really funny, Niall. You know, my Dad had another saying.’

  ‘Did he now?’

  I nod. ‘Marry an island woman, marry the island.’

  ‘Oh HO!’ Michael laughs.

  ‘What is it you do, Carmel?’ I ask, turning to face her.

  ‘Oh, I’m retired,’ she trills.

  ‘She’s a writer!’ Niall says.

  ‘Well,’ Carmel pretends to demure, hand on her chest and eyes to the ceiling.

  ‘The next Maeve Binchy!’ Niall says.

  ‘Ohhhh,’ I bat my eyes at her.

  ‘Read that thing you’re working on, Carmel,’ Niall says.

  ‘No, don’t.’ Michael puts a leg out to try to stop her, but she’s up and running to the sideboard.

  ‘This is only a draft, of course,’ she says and flips open a notepad. She clears her throat dramatically. ‘His legs were thick as barrels, the veins running close to the skin in a hot, thumping knot. And his hair was long. It stood like a banner in the wind. She knew, the moment she saw him, she had to ride him, ride him till he was slick with sweat--’

  ‘AL-right,’ Michael says.

  ‘What?’ Niall frowns at him.

  ‘So it’s a romance?’ I ask, blushing pink.

  ‘It’s about a horse,’ Carmel says.

  ‘Ohhh.’ Thank God.

  Michael pulls my chair out. ‘Thanks for that, Mum. We’re just gonna--we’ll see you later on so.’

  ‘I want to hear more!’ I snigger as he pulls me
after him into the back kitchen and outside. ‘Have her tie the horse up!’

  ‘Will you stop!’ Michael says, choking back a spitting guffaw.

  ‘What? That’d sell!’

  He entwines his fingers in mine and leads me through the darkness to a sheltered arbor on the lee side of the island. An amber red moon sits just above the black sea.

  WOW.

  I lean back against a weather-smoothed rock and Michael envelopes me in a wool blanket. Where did that come from?!

  ‘I’m sorry about my mum,’ he says.

  ‘Your mum’s HE-larious,’ I laugh.

  ‘No, I mean about before.’

  ‘Oh. Oh it’s ok,’ I say.

  ‘No. It’s not.’ Michael turns to face me. ‘She’s so over protective.’

  ‘All moms are like that.’

  ‘No. It’s more than that,’ he says, his eyes darkening suddenly and his voice turning somber. ‘I was engaged. To a girl from London,’ he says. The words come out in strange, cracking spurts, as if they’d been pulled from somewhere deep and stuck here and there on the way up. ‘She was in the class behind me at university, she studied Law. We fell in love, and she decided to move home with me. Everything was grand. We got a little house, a dog. She was talking kids. I asked her to be my wife. When it came to the day, the whole village was crammed into the church, but she never showed.’ My mouth drops open. ‘I guess Inishmore wasn’t enough for her, after all,’ Michael says. ‘Or, maybe I wasn’t.’

  ‘I am so sorry,’ I say.

  ‘I’m not.’ He takes up my hands and leans in close. ‘If it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be here with you.’

  I look away, stricken by his words.

  Don’t do this to me, Michael. Don’t make me into your answer.

  He puts a hand to my face and lifts my chin gently. I can’t help but look into his eyes. ‘I… I love you, Julie,’ he says. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you.’

  ‘You do not!’ I blurt through a nervy laugh, which dies in my parched throat.

  He leans in to kiss me, and all of a sudden I’m overwhelmed by a bone deep feeling I can’t explain. I put up a hand in protest. How can he love me? He doesn’t know who I am! What about my life in New York, all of my plans?! What’s happening to me? I don’t go skinny-dipping or nurse little cows or blow my money on an insane business model! All of that isn’t me. Is it?

  Michael hoists me onto his lap and looks straight into my eyes, answering, without a word, every one of my questions. He pulls me close, kissing me with his salt sweet lips, and I let my whole self come apart in the moment.

  We stumble back down the hill and into the flat at the rear of his parents’ cottage, laughing and fumbling with each other’s clothes as we go. Thank God, he has his own flat.

  ‘Will you SHHH?!’ I titter, thumbs working blind on Michael’s flannel shirt.

  ‘They can’t hear us,’ he says, biting soft at my neck. ‘The walls are a meter thick!’

  ‘Oh my GOD. This is so high school! I don’t do this.’

  We bumble into the center of the narrow room, and Michael flicks on the bathroom light, kissing my wrist and the flat of my hand as he goes. My eyes go straight to the cold looking single bed that’s wedged into the corner.

  ‘I don’t do this either,’ Michael says and rubs at the back of his neck self-consciously.

  ‘I can see that,’ I smile. ‘Got to say, this is not gelling with the ladykiller rep.’ He wrenches me to him, and we fall backward into the bed, breathless.

  ‘Ladykiller?’ he laughs into the crook of my neck. ‘Where’d you get that?’

  I press my mouth to his. ‘Stop talking,’ I whisper.

  He smiles at me, his face its own light in the darkness. I close my eyes and breathe him in, arms clutching for the secret coursing strong and certain and completely illogical between my body and his. The way he moves, the definiteness of it, takes hold of me and makes me aware of myself in a way I’ve never been before. He doesn’t just want me. He needs me. And I need him. I open my eyes wide against the dark, soul bared, mind stilled, and watch as the two of us change the world.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I wake in the morning to a peel of birdsong. I stretch out, starfish style, and let out a groan. That’s the best sleep I’ve had in ages!

  Wait.

  I feel about in the close dark.

  Where am I?

  I flick on my phone.

  Twelve thirty?! SHIT.

  I yank the blackout shade and it flaps up to the ceiling with an awful crack. A milky sun sits over the headland. It casts a hard, morning afterlight into the sparse little room.

  Where is Michael?

  A cozied pot of tea steams away on the side table. There’s a scrawl of a note tucked between two fat scones and the morning paper.

  ‘Didn’t have the heart to wake you,’ it says. ‘Took a sneaky photo of you to keep me going at the conference. Be back soon. Yours, Michael.’

  I smile to myself and pour a cup of tea.

  I am definitely going to bask in this for at least a minute. No thinking about what it means, just being.

  My phone rings, and I spill a scalding spray of tea on my lap.

  Now I have signal.

  ‘Hello?’ I gripe into the receiver. It’s a New York landline. Kate, no doubt.

  ‘Julie, hi.’

  Feck, it’s Stuart!

  ‘Hiiii.’ I pull myself upright, tidy my hair.

  ‘Been keeping an eye on your work out there in Ireland. St. Enda’s, right? Excellent job,’ he says.

  ‘Have you? Thanks.’

  ‘The way you took advantage of the dairy crisis to plug your product? Genius!’

  ‘Well, that’s not exactly--’

  ‘Listen, I want you on a plane this afternoon.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You really opened my eyes with this one, Quinn. Roger’s not half the marketeer you are. I was wrong. The directorship’s yours. I’ll even double your salary!’

  I slip off the bed onto the floor. ‘Double?’

  ‘Okay. And the corner office.’

  WHOA.

  ‘Stuart, I can’t--’

  ‘Can’t what?’ he huffs. ‘Have you had another offer?’

  ‘It’s not that. Look, I really appreciate the offer, but I can’t do it. Not right now, anyway.’

  ‘Very good. You want to finish out the project there? Hands on! I’m liking it,’ he says.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Kate told me you’re coming back in a couple of days, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘See you on Monday then, Quinn. Counting on you,’ he says and hangs up.

  I sigh and press the end key. Go back to M&A? The thought fills me with a dreadful elation. But what about my future with Kate (if we still have one)? And what about Michael and the co-op? Stuart’s practically gift wrapped my fantasy job. How could I say no to that? But so much has changed in the past week. I’m not sure what I want anymore.

  I prop up a pillow and settle back with the paper. No news on the front page about the Fressen deal. Is there a Farming Section?

  I flip through the pages, smiling into my tea. First proper paper I’ve had in a week, and I’m looking for the Farming Section!

  There’s a big spread on the beef industry in Spain, a few words about a tapering in the price of grass seed, but nothing about Fressen or the Kilronan co-op.

  Don’t tell me they’ve lost interest already! The real crisis is only just beginning!

  I throw my clothes on and hoof it back to Clare’s.

  ‘Cormac? CORMAC!’ I call out as I burst through the front door.

  ‘Janey mack!’ Dermot says, hopping up from his armchair like he’d been bitten. ‘We didn’t hear you come in last night,’ he grins. ‘Dinner must’ve gone mightily!’

  My cheeks burn molten.

  ‘Is Cormac here? I need to talk to him. And Ava!’ I gasp.

  ‘Yeah. Just in there.’ H
e points me toward the kitchen, and I skid past him.

  ‘Cormac, hey!’ I yank out a chair and squeeze in between him and Ava.

  ‘Hey.’ He and Ava are bent over the table, scratching a face into a bulbous papier-mâché head with markers.

  ‘Nice piñata.’

  ‘It’s Saint Enda,’ Cormac says.

  ‘For the festival next week,’ Ava adds.

  Cormac goes right on inking in Enda’s eyes.

  ‘Oh. Cool,’ I clear my throat, ‘I need your help. Yours too, Ava. Do you have the video from the factory?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She hands me her smartphone, and I scroll through the video files.

  ‘She’s got loads,’ Cormac says over my shoulder. ‘There’s Dad and Fionn there. And Louie. There’s Bridie and Aoife. The Dalys up the road.’

  A series of waterfront shots pops on screen. Cormac poses in the foreground, kicked back crooner style on a water swirled rock.

  ‘What are these?’

  ‘Those are nothing,’ he says hurriedly.

  Oh my God, he’s got his sax in this one.