Loving Irish

by Katy Regnery

  Hallie was trying—Lord, she was trying so hard to be patient and understanding, but after the last six months of awfulness, it hurt that Jenny was so furious with her. She couldn’t explain to a four-year-old that she was actually blameless and Sergio, the rat, had ripped their family apart, then run away. Anyway, Hallie wouldn’t do that to her baby. No matter what else Sergio was, he was Jenny’s father, and Hallie would protect her daughter’s right to love him. If he became a villain in Jenny’s eyes, it wouldn’t be because Hallie had purposely poisoned the well.

  “Jenny? You want to stop for McDonald’s soon? Chicken nuggets? You know you love them!” She glanced into the rearview mirror, but Jenny didn’t meet her eyes this time; she just continued staring out the window, methodically eating from her little carton of Goldfish. “We’ll stop in a little bit. Until then, Mommy’s going to put on some music. You can sing along if you want, okay?”

  Leaning forward, Hallie pressed play on the SUV’s CD player and lowered her window as Aladdin started making promises to Jasmine about a “whole new world” waiting for them.

  Right. Liar.

  You’re a big fat liar, Aladdin.

  She pictured Aladdin and Jasmine sitting on the magic carpet together. He was pretending to be a prince, and she was buying it hook, line, and sinker. Only later would the duped princess discover that the man she’d fallen for wasn’t a prince at all. He was a guttersnipe, a petty thief, and a liar.

  And that’s the problem with men, thought Hallie acidly. They all made promises they didn’t keep. They all lied to get what they wanted. They all used women for their own means and discarded them—or replaced them—when it suited them.

  She pictured Sergio’s handsome face briefly, but it was quickly supplanted by the emerald eyes of a man who’d engineered the original, and most bitter, betrayal of Hallie’s life.

  No, she thought, banishing him from her mind. He’s in the past. Leave him there.

  Except Ian Haven wasn’t entirely in the past.

  In fact, his presence loomed in her future like another dark cloud in a series of hundred-year storms. Whether she wanted to or not, she’d have to see him at Brittany and Rory’s wedding.

  But that didn’t mean she had to like it.

  Nor did she have to look at him, talk to him, or acknowledge his presence.

  She’d lived the last ten years with the sharp sting of Ian’s treachery in her heart, and she’d lived the last six months with Sergio’s infidelity piled onto that original pain.

  Hallie Gilbert had had enough betrayal from men to last her until the end of her days. The only answer was to stay away from them. The only answer was to refuse to have anything to do with them so that she could heal her broken heart and concentrate on her daughter.

  No more men. No more lies. No more betrayal. No lovers. No male friendships. Nothing. No one. No more. Please God, no more. I can’t bear any more.

  Blinking back her tears as she rolled up the window, she glanced into the mirror again to see her daughter’s lips moving to the words from Mulan’s “Reflection”:

  Who is that girl I see, staring straight back at me?

  Ignored by her daughter, Hallie caught her own eyes in the mirror and wished she could answer such a simple question. Who am I? Who are you?

  But no answers appeared in her mind.

  The truth was, nothing felt simple anymore.

  ***

  After dinner at McDonald’s, Jenny had fallen asleep, and the sun was setting by the time Hallie arrived in Sandwich, leaving just enough light to see that yet another man had betrayed her trust.

  She knew from her parents and their realtor that Colby Cottage had been in a state of some serious disrepair, but she’d found a handyman on the internet two weeks ago, signed a contract for his services, and wired him ten thousand dollars so he could get to work on the place.

  Now that she’d arrived?

  It was clear that neither he nor anyone else had done the slightest bit of work on the cottage.

  What was once a driveway was now overgrown with shrubbery, so she parked on the road by the front gate, which hung from one rusty hinge.

  A haunted house.

  They were the first words that passed through her head as she cut the engine of her car, stepped from its warmth, and stood facing the decrepit house that had been the place of so many wonderful childhood memories.

  The small structure was dark and foreboding; nothing about it ringing out the joy she’d found there in her youth. The white picket fence out front was missing spindles, the paint cracked and uneven, and the path to the house was barely passable, covered with high grass and overgrown greenery.

  Using her purse to push aside thorny vines and sharp branches, she made her way to the door, reached into her pocket for the key with a shaking hand, opened the front door, and stepped inside.

  It smelled all wrong.

  When she was young, the cottage had smelled of decades of burned fire wood combined with the pleasant, slightly musty essence of the surrounding forest and lake.

  But now? She covered her nose against an assault of staleness and decay. Something must have died there recently because the smell was eye-watering. Reaching for the light switch to her right, her shoulders sagged in relief when the stag antler chandelier, hanging from the great room ceiling, turned on without delay. At least they had electricity, which meant light, base board heat, and—hopefully—a working kitchen.

  Leaving the front door open so she could hear Jenny if she called out, Hallie stepped into the empty cottage, fumbling in her hip pocket for her phone.

  She dialed the handyman’s number, unsurprised when her call was answered by a recorded message saying that the number was no longer in service. Grinding her teeth, she blinked back her tears and hit the “End” button. All his good reviews must have been fake, and his listed number was just a temporary ruse to trap an unsuspecting victim like her—someone who had local property that needed work but who wasn’t, in fact, a local.

  Mr. Smith of AAA HandyMan was a crook, and Hallie was the victim of a scam.

  “Shit,” she muttered. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Stupid, Hallie! You’re so stupid!”

  Her realtor had put her in touch with a reputable local handyman, but Mr. Carlson from Carlson & Sons Contracting had sent her a quote wildly over her budget, whereas Mr. Smith had promised to work within her means.

  Right. All he’d done was sell her a pretty line…and it had cost her ten thousand dollars.

  She inhaled sharply, swiping at her burning eyes and stepping into the dilapidated space.

  It was a square building with two floors. The bottom floor had an L-shaped great room, dining area, and kitchen, and the square inside of the L consisted of a private bedroom with a tiny bathroom en suite. The wooden floors were dusty with leaves strewn about, like a window had been left open or leaves had made their way down the chimney, but she saw no evidence of nesting. The owner of the terrible smells must be living upstairs, she guessed.

  Making her way to the ground-floor bedroom, she opened the door to find the windows closed and unbroken, and the smell musty but tolerable. Thank God for small mercies. She’d set up beds for her and Jenny there tonight. It was cold, but she’d brought an electric heater that would make the room toasty in no time. And as soon as the rugs arrived on the moving truck from her apartment, they’d cut the draft in half.

  She closed the bedroom door behind her as she backed out of the room and headed for the stairs. They were surprisingly sound—creaking with her weight but otherwise strong, which was encouraging. It meant that the old bones of the place were still good.

  At the top of the stairs, the bathroom door was open to reveal a floor covered in leaves and debris, an open window over the bathtub the culprit. She closed the window, then the door without further inspection and turned right to look into the bedroom that had been the guest room. Another broken window had ensured that the floor was littered with leaves and twigs
. There was animal scat on the floor, and a smell of urine so overwhelming that she covered her nose and mouth, trying not to breathe.

  “Disgusting!” she muttered, pulling the door shut with a resounding slam and staring at it like it might pop back open of its own accord. “You’re a bastard, Mr. Smith of AAA HandyMan.” Shaking her head with disdain, she added, “That’s probably not even your damned name!”

  Backing away, she turned to the bedroom, which had once been hers, crossing in front of the bathroom and stairs and opening the door to find the setting sun blazing into the room…through a large, jagged hole in the ceiling. A large branch caught in the hole betrayed the culprit of the damage, but animals had done the rest. There were at least two nests in the room, which was littered with debris and scat, the smell even more noxious than the other bedroom. Distracted by the soft sound of chittering, she turned slowly to the left, where she found a hissing raccoon, its yellow eyes focused on hers and back hair straight up.

  “Ahhh!” she screamed, jumping back into the dark hallway and pulling the door shut.

  She placed her hand over heart and pressed her ear to the door. Holy Lord! She heard a frantic scrambling and leapt away from the closed room, wringing her hands.

  The place was unlivable.

  For anyone except a desperate single mother at the end of her rope, the place was unlivable.

  Lifting her chin, Hallie headed back down the stairs, through the great room, and out to her car, swiping away overgrowth along the path with her bare hands. Once there, she opened the trunk and pulled out two tarps she packed in the back. She’d intended to use both in their bedroom, under their air mattresses, until the rest of her furniture arrived, but they’d have to make do without them.

  Grabbing a toolbox she’d purchased at a hardware store in Boston, she marched back into the house and nailed the tarps over the stairs’ opening. She used way more nails than was probably necessary, but when she was finished, the stairs were completely covered and nothing was getting through, headed up or headed down. If anyone needed to get into those rooms for any reason, they could use the outdoor staircase for now.

  Once finished, she headed back out to the car and pulled the two air mattresses and air pump from the trunk. It was just luck that the downstairs bedroom was habitable, but at this point, she’d take what she could get.

  After she had both beds inflated, she returned to the SUV and grabbed two sleeping bags, two duffel bags full of clothes, a lamp, and the heater.

  She plugged in the heater and made the beds, thanking God that Jenny was still asleep and wouldn’t see the cottage in its dark, creepy glory. When the bedroom was ready, she returned to the car, unsnapped Jenny’s harness and gathered her daughter into her arms.

  “Mommy?” asked a soft, groggy voice.

  Hallie’s heart stuttered. It felt like ages since she’d heard her daughter’s voice.

  “I’m here, baby,” she whispered.

  “Where’s Papa?”

  “He’s…” Hallie looked down at her daughter’s long, dark lashes, closed over her eyes. “He’s asleep.” Somewhere.

  “I…miss…him,” her daughter sighed, nestling more deeply into her mother’s arms.

  Hallie’s eyes prickled with tears, both for the pain Jenny was suffering, but also for the now-rare show of affection for her. She savored the weight of her child against her chest, walking slowly and carefully through the brush to the front door, through the great room to the bedroom. Settling Jenny on the bed, she reached down to take off her shoes, then set her in the sleeping bag and zipped her up, safe and sound. Jenny sighed, rubbing her head against the pillow before falling into a deep sleep.

  Hallie only left the room to close the doors on the SUV and lock the front door of the cottage, then returned to the dark bedroom, pitifully lit with the single bulb from a lamp that had decorated Jenny’s room in Boston. Hallie had hoped it would lend some familiarity and cheer to their makeshift bedroom, but all it did was remind her that she’d uprooted her daughter from their home and brought her to this—this—haunted house in the middle of nowhere. She closed the door, stuffed towels in the crack between the bottom of the door and the floor, then turned around to look at Jenny.

  Maybe I should find a motel? she wondered. But saving money was crucial. Now more than ever. She’d have to call Mr. Carlson in the morning and see when he could get started on repairs. Besides, this room wasn’t fancy, but it wasn’t dangerous or dirty either. Frankly, it wasn’t any better or worse than a cheap motel.

  A cheap motel.

  She cringed.

  “This is my life,” she whispered. “My choices are a dilapidated haunted house or a cheap motel. Hallie Gilbert, how did you sink so low?”

  Suddenly overwhelmed with loneliness and uncertainty, Hallie withdrew her phone from her back pocket and opened a new text message.

  HALLIE: Britt…surprise! Long story, but J and I are staying at Colby for a while. Don’t know if you’re up here right now, but if yes, pls let me know. Could really use a friendly face in the AM. —H

  She stared at the message until she knew it had been sent, then placed her phone on the floor beside her bed. A beam of moonlight shone down on Jenny’s little face, and Hallie reached up to wipe away twin tears that coursed down her own cheeks.

  “Please let this turn out to be a fresh start,” she said softly to any higher being that might be listening. “Please tell me I’m doing the right thing.”

  Her answer was the lonely call of a loon on the lake, which only served to amplify her doubts as she kicked off her shoes, turned off the light, and slipped into the sleeping bag beside her daughter.

  THE PLAN

  (Part 2)

  Brittany, Tate, and Chelsea had left ten minutes ago for the nightly campfire, leaving Hallie alone to get ready for her date with Ian.

  Hallie didn’t have “special” lingerie from Victoria’s Secret or anything like that, but she did have a matching white-lace bra-and-panty set that she barely ever used because it was too itchy. But for tonight? It was perfect because it was extra pretty. Stripping down in the tiny bathroom, she shaved her legs in the shower, spraying her pulse points with perfume borrowed from Tate. Then she put on her underwear and opened her bureau drawer to decide what to wear.

  She chose coral-pink shorts and a white halter top. The white against her tan skin would pop, and the spaghetti straps made the top the sexiest thing she had. Adding pearl studs in her ears and a silver charm bracelet on her wrist, she checked herself in the mirror and smiled. She looked ready; not a super model, by any means, but solidly pretty, which made her grin wider.

  She knew that tonight wasn’t Ian’s first time.

  First of all, he had a certain reputation around camp, and Hallie knew all the girls he’d dated in the past three years. And second of all, he’d already told her that he’d been with several girls. But in the same breath, he’d told her that while he hadn’t loved any of them, he did love her.

  And Hallie believed him.

  She knew it in her bones and with every breath she took: she was special to Ian Haven, just as special to him as he was to her.

  So even though it wasn’t Ian’s first time tonight, in a way it was. It was the first time he’d be making love. And she wanted it to be perfect for him too.

  Checking her watch, Hallie realized that she still had thirty minutes before she needed to leave her cabin for the barn, and she sat down on her bed, jittery with excitement.

  Knock. Knock knock.

  “Hallie? Baby?”

  M—Mom?

  Her neck whipped to the side, staring with confusion at the cabin door.

  “Honey? It’s us!” said her dad’s voice. “Where’s our birthday girl?”

  Jumping up from the bed, she crossed the room and opened the door to find her parents standing on the threshold. Oh. My. God. My…parents.

  “Mom?” she asked dumbly, blinking at her mother and wondering if she’d somehow misse
d a message telling her that they were coming up for a visit.

  “Sweetheart!” she exclaimed, stepping forward to throw her arms around Hallie, her only child. “Happy birthday!”

  Over her mother’s shoulder, she looked up at her dad’s smiling face. “Surprise!”

  “What…What are you doing here?” she asked, feeling utterly bewildered but forcing a smile as she leaned away from her mother, looking back and forth between her parents.

  “We’re surprising you! We’ve come to take you for a dinner cruise over on Lake Winnipe—”

  “But I’ve already had dinner,” she blurted out, her heart racing. And I have plans. Big plans.

  “Well, no matter,” said her father. “You can have a second dinner. We have tickets on the nine o’clock cruise!”

  “On Winnipesaukee,” her mother added. “Remember? We used to go when you were little?”

  “Swinging to the oldies!” her dad added with a grin.

  “It’ll be lots of fun,” said her mother. “We need to hurry, though. It’s already eight thirty!”

  “Hit some traffic on the way up from Boston.”

  “But…” stuttered Hallie. “I didn’t—I mean, I had no idea you were coming.”

  “Honey!” Her mother scanned Hallie’s face. “Are you—Are you unhappy to see us?”

  As their only child, Hallie felt the responsibility to be everything to her parents, and she couldn’t bear to see the hurt that was about to cover her mother’s face. Her parents had, apparently, driven up from Boston to surprise her with tickets on a local dinner cruise, and her less-than-warm reception was about to hurt feelings.

  She smiled at them. “No! It’s—I’m just so surprised!”

  “We found Britt at the campfire,” said Hallie’s father. “She said you were a little under the weather?”

  “But you look wonderful, darling!”

  “I…” Oh, Lord, what could she say? She was sworn to secrecy where she and Ian were concerned. Not to mention, her parents would be wholly disapproving of their daughter’s plans to lose her virginity tonight. She was stuck. One hundred percent stuck. “I…rested. I’m feeling better.”