The restaurant’s picnic tables overlook the beach. I hug my knees to my chest and turn my face up to the sun, letting it warm me to my core. My hair is half-dry, the ends clumping together with salt water.
“You have a tattoo,” Kieran says, drawing my attention back. My bare feet are covered in sand. For the first time, I’d forgotten about it, forgotten to cover it up, forgotten even to care it was there.
I cross my ankles and tuck them under my body. “It was a stupid mistake.” And when I say that, it feels so true. Kieran doesn’t ask me any more about it.
We each get an order of fish-and-chips and a Guinness. The place is quaint and casual. People sit in swimsuits, covered in sand, most of them sun kissed from a day at the beach.
We don’t say much as we sip on our beers. At one point, I purposefully cover my top lip with foam and smile at Kieran. He returns the gesture, but only briefly. A weight is back on his shoulders, his eyes pensive.
“Will you miss it?” he asks eventually.
“Miss what?”
Kieran gestures to my beer. “I hear the Guinness in America doesn’t compare to here. When you go home, do you think you’ll miss it?”
I can’t look at him. “I don’t want to talk about going home.”
“You can’t run away from your life forever, Bunny.”
“Run away or run toward? You said so yourself.” I straighten my posture. “I haven’t even seen Dublin yet.”
We eat in silence. Kieran pokes at his food, only briefly looking at me when I say something, but then returns to dissecting his fish and fries. By the end of the meal, his food is more mutilated than eaten.
When the plates have been cleared, and our pints drained, I ask if we can take a walk on the beach.
“This may be the only time I come to Inch Beach. I want to take it all in.” But I’m just stalling. I want this day to go on forever. Daylight lasts so long here. To sacrifice it driving is unacceptable, not when the ocean sounds so calming, and the sun feels so warm on my skin. Kieran obliges, and after he insists on paying, his penance for almost getting me killed, we walk barefoot down the beach. A distance is kept between us that I can feel. Maybe it’s my fault. I’m the one who’s pulled away to this point. But after today that feels almost impossible.
I purposefully move closer as we walk.
“So you told me about your favorite dare. What’s the one that made you the most afraid?”
Kieran stops and picks up a rock. He examines it.
“Skydiving?” I ask.
Kieran shakes his head, his eyes not meeting mine.
“Spelunking?”
He glances at me sideways now. “You know about spelunking?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” I give him a cocky grin.
Kieran shakes his head. “Not spelunking.”
“Something else with heights?” I prod, but he just keeps his eyes on the rock, turning it around in his hands.
When he finally throws it into the ocean, it lands with a splash. “I haven’t actually done the dare I’m most afraid of.”
“Well, what is it?”
He dusts the sand off his hands, and we walk farther down the beach.
“I promise I won’t tell anyone.” I trail after him, but Kieran doesn’t budge. He picks up the pace. I take two steps to one of his. He doesn’t stop until I touch his arm. My hand stays on his bare skin. “You can trust me.”
It’s not fair of me to say, and the instant it’s out, I regret it. How can Kieran trust me when all I’m feeding him are lies, as justified as I think they are? Lies are a betrayal, no matter how well intended they seem.
Kieran and I notice at the same time that I’m still holding his arm. I pull back, clasping my hands behind my back. How can I ask him to reveal his secrets when I won’t reveal mine?
But he speaks before I have the chance to rescind the question. “Refusing the life that my father insists on. Telling him I don’t want it. That I’m done being blackmailed into loving him. That I want nothing to do with his life or his money. That I’m leaving him behind, just like my mother did, to start a new life. That’s the dare I’m most afraid of—to live the life I choose.” Kieran finally looks at me. “I’m not as strong as you, Bunny. You wanted a different life, and here you are, chasing it. I can’t seem to do that.”
Any thoughts of confessing disappear, pulled out to sea with the sand at our feet.
“I’m not that strong,” I say.
Kieran starts walking again. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
We stay silent, my thoughts juggling between guilt and intrigue. “If you could choose, what would your life be like?”
A wisp of a smirk comes to Kieran’s face. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“I already know you’re crazy. I’ve seen the pictures in your room.”
“If I could do anything”—Kieran turns his attention up to the sky—“I’d fly planes for a living.”
A sinking feeling drops in my stomach. “But you’re afraid of heights.”
“But every day would be a rush. I’d never have to bungee jump again.” Kieran speaks with the excited tone I’ve come to recognize.
“You are crazy.”
Kieran laughs lightly. “It’s only during liftoff that I get nervous. Once I’m in the air, the fear goes away.”
The blissful expression on his face draws me into him more, and I understand. “Freedom,” I say.
“It’ll never happen. My father wants me to go into business. Move to London when I’m done with school. Start at his company so one day I can take over, like a good son should.”
“But they’re your plans. You get to choose.”
Kieran shakes his head. “It’s not that simple. My life is tied to him. I’m a spoiled rich kid, Bunny. Letting that go . . . it’s complicated.”
Kieran’s eyes grow stormy.
“What’s your father like?” I ask.
“He’s exactly what you’d expect—charming, entitled, power hungry.” Kieran glances at me. “He gave Von and me anything we wanted when we were little and then shipped us off to boarding school so we couldn’t see how miserable he made my mum . . .” Kieran pauses, taking a deep breath. “For a long time, I blamed her for leaving us behind without a word. Blamed her for not loving us enough. But now . . . When she left, she knew she’d have nothing. No money. No job. Both her parents were dead, and she had no siblings. I don’t think she wanted that kind of life for Von and me. We had everything. How could she take that away? But she must have been miserable to choose a life with nothing over the life she had.” Kieran shakes his head. “I think she thought we’d be OK. That our dad would change.”
“But that didn’t happen.”
Kieran shakes his head. “You can’t change someone like him.” He stops, the waves lapping at his feet. “In truth, some days I’m afraid I’m like him. We both need a rush to feel alive. His is just a different kind of rush.”
I pull on Kieran’s arm to make him face me. “You are nothing like him. He manipulates people to get what he wants. You help them.”
Kieran’s eyes are unreadable. It’s as if he wants to believe me, but can’t.
“You should tell him,” I say.
“It’s not that simple.”
“It sounds that simple.”
Kieran pulls away and turns back toward the ocean. “The truth is never that simple, Jane.”
A piece of my heart breaks free when he says Jane. He’s only done it a few times, but each instance has reminded me of all the lies I’ve placed on him. He’s right—the truth is never simple.
Kieran’s eyes match the blue of the sparkling water. “I can’t be selfish with my life. I need to think about Siobhan. About her future.”
Kieran doesn’t say the word “baby.” We’ve never talked about it. It’s almost as if Kieran and Siobhan are pretending the baby doesn’t exist, moving through their daily lives like nothing is different. But that can’t last f
orever. Her belly is growing. Time stops for no one, no matter how unsure we are of the future.
“If agreeing to this life means protecting Siobhan and her future . . . I’ll do it.” There’s intensity, a fortitude, in Kieran’s eyes when he says this, but more is hidden beneath the surface. Why can’t Siobhan take care of herself? Why does he feel obligated to sacrifice his life for her? I’m not sure she would do the same. Whatever has transpired between them is complicated, layered. What he’s revealed to me so far has taken time, and when I push too much, that part of him locks up. I have to be cautious for fear Kieran will shut me out completely.
“What about you, Bunny?” Kieran asks with what feels like a purposeful change of subject. “What do you want to do with your life when you go back to America? Professional surfer, maybe?”
A radiant hue paints Kieran’s skin, like the setting sun is literally kissing his cheeks, and I find I’m jealous of it.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I’m not even sure I want to go back to America.”
“Where do you want to go then?”
“Paris, maybe?” I smile at Kieran. “Open a bakery. Have macaroons all lined up and color coordinated.”
“On Île Saint-Louis, tucked next to an ice cream shop?”
“You’ve been to Paris?”
Kieran nods. “It’s one of my favorite cities.”
“Maybe we should go there.”
He looks out at the ocean. “You’ll leave the rain of Ireland for the wonders of Paris. I can already tell.”
For a time we stand in the sand, our feet covered as the waves wash up on shore. Kieran watches the sun, but I can’t take my eyes off him. Forget Paris. No place could be more wonderful than this.
“Kieran?”
“Yeah, Bunny?”
“I’m not sure what I want, but I think I need more adventure in my life.”
“Need I remind you that today’s adventure almost killed you?”
“But it didn’t.”
Kieran shakes his head. “Just because you ran away for the summer doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go back to your life. This won’t last forever. Ireland gets dreadfully cold and dark in the winter.”
A chill blows off the ocean as the sun starts to disappear on the horizon, sending shivers up my arms. I want to counter Kieran. I don’t know the life I had, but I can’t let go of the way I feel right now.
“You’re cold,” Kieran says. I’m not . . . not when he’s close by. I feel warmth in my chest, like I’m wrapped in contentment. In calm. But my body betrays my heart, and my teeth chatter. “I think it’s time to head back.”
We ride in silence most of the way home. The sky changes color out the window of the truck. I don’t remember what the sunset looks like in Cleveland, but I know I’ll never forget the colors off the coast of Ireland.
When we pull into the driveway of the cottage, the night has turned dark, but Siobhan’s bedroom light is on. I’d forgotten about our run-in earlier today, the sharp words I threw at her. She won’t be happy I’m back, but her concern isn’t mine. Siobhan will have to deal with me, just like I have to deal with her. I stride into the house with more confidence, prepared for a storm, only to find a pile of clothes sitting on my bed with a note on top.
I’m sick of your boring clothes. These don’t fit anyway. You’re welcome.
The sea glass I tried to give her weeks ago is gone from my nightstand. Maybe she has more compassion than I give her credit for. Today has surprised me on multiple levels. This morning, all I thought I had was a sweatshirt and a notebook. But I was wrong. I have so much more than that. Leaving this life is beginning to verge on impossible. I’d set out to find a way home, but what I’m finding is that maybe home isn’t where I thought it was.
CHAPTER 16
We finish painting Shannon Walsh’s house later that week, Kieran braving the ladder in the end. I bake her sugar cookies, and she invites us in for tea. Her house is cozy and slightly cluttered, with wool blankets draped on every seat and old pictures displayed on every open surface. She plods around the house, dodging furniture, but clearly hard of seeing, squinting through thick glasses, leaning into my face.
“To be young and beautiful again.” Shannon shakes her head. “Don’t squander it. Soon you’ll be old and wrinkled like me. It all goes by so fast.”
Kieran is intently examining Shannon’s rickety old kitchen table, seemingly unaware of her comment. “This is a bit wobbly. Can I fix it for you?” he asks.
“Good lad.” She pats him on the cheek. Before we leave that day, Kieran fixes her kitchen table, leaky bathroom sink, and a sticky doorknob, and he changes five light bulbs.
I hug Shannon before we leave, embracing her small round body like a big pillow. Painting her house was a joy and offered me more than she’ll ever know.
As we’re leaving, she says to Kieran, “Michael Flynn’s dishwasher is out. I told him you could fix it. Would you mind?”
“Not at all.”
Shannon winks at me subtly. “It’s probably a two-person job. Why don’t you take your friend? You know how Michael likes a pretty girl.”
Kieran agrees, and I blush at the compliment. But when we climb into his truck and drive away, he’s quiet. He’s been silently contemplative ever since Inch Beach, and it’s verging on maddening. I’d take Siobhan’s yelling over Kieran’s silence any day. But even Siobhan’s temper has diminished lately. I can’t find the courage to apologize for what I said, so we just continue to dodge each other. Even at the Secret Book and Record Store, Siobhan keeps to herself. I’ve noticed Clive watching her carefully.
“Something’s not right,” he said yesterday during tea at the Beachfront Café. “She actually said to a customer, ‘I’m always happy to help.’ Siobhan is never happy to help.”
“What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know.” Clive’s tone was worrisome. “But I’ve been playing Celine Dion all morning, and she hasn’t said a bloody word.”
The truck bounces over the road. Kieran and I sit in silence. I consider bringing up the weather . . . anything to fill the space, but I’m worried that one wrong move will push him further away.
I point out the window at the passing hedgerow. “The red flowers I see everywhere. What are they?”
“Fuchsias,” Kieran says. “People down here call them the tears of God.”
“Why?”
“As Ireland was dying of famine, those flowers were blooming. They survived when so many people didn’t.”
“That’s incredibly sad.”
Without warning, Kieran jerks the wheel, jostling me in my seat, and pulls to the side of the road. He throws the car into park and turns to face me.
“I need to tell you something,” he says adamantly.
His serious appearance and his stiff posture aren’t a good sign. My stomach sinks to my toes as a million possibilities race through my head. This might be when Kieran finally kicks me out of his house. I’ve been here for almost three weeks. I thought my memories would be back by now, but other than the few wisps, I have nothing of Clementine’s life to hold on to. All I have is this. And I can’t lose it.
“Yes?” I say hesitantly.
Kieran is too quiet for too long. Finally he says, “I lied to you.”
“What?”
Kieran runs his hands through his messy hair. “I . . .” He fumbles with his words, his cool exterior cracking. “I promised I’d butt out and let you earn your own money. But it was really my money you’ve been earning.”
“What?”
“I don’t charge people for the work I do. It wouldn’t be right. I don’t need it. But I want to pay you for your work, Bunny. You’ve earned it.”
“I don’t want money,” I say. I didn’t help to get paid. It was an excuse to spend time with him, though I didn’t want to admit that at the start. Kieran looks at me for what feels like the first time in days.
“But what about the whole ‘I’m an ind
ependent woman. I want to earn my own’ money?”
“I am an independent woman,” I say, and truly feel it this time. “And I don’t want your money.”
“But you should get out of Waterville and see Dublin.”
“And I’ll get there. Someday.” I square myself forward in the seat. “Now, are we going to fix that dishwasher or what?”
“Are you sure, Bunny? You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes. Now, drive.”
The hint of a grin pulls on Kieran’s face. “Never mess with an independent woman.”
Fixing Michael Flynn’s dishwasher leads to helping Martin Blake clean up his yard, which leads to painting and rehanging Molly Barry’s “Seaside Bed and Breakfast” sign. Kieran and I have a new job every day. He admits to me that part of the reason he helps is to prove that he’s not like his father—that there are people who take and people who give, and his genes won’t determine that, Kieran will. The space between us lessens as the week passes. Kieran laughs more. It’s no longer a question of whether I’ll help him, but who we’re helping next.
I wake up one morning later that week, heavy from sleep after the first night I haven’t been wracked with nightmares. My body feels fully rested. Inside my notebook, I add a tally mark to the long line of them at the top of the page.
It’s been twenty-one days since I woke up and became Jane. I count them one more time just to make sure.
Twenty-one days.
That first day in Waterville feels distant. Lately, I’ve almost stopped searching for my memories. Some days, I’m so involved in my life here that I forget I had a life elsewhere. But then an uncomfortable feeling creeps up on me, like Clementine is hiding but not gone. As if every turn I take might be the one that leads me to her. But I’m no longer sure I want to find her. Three weeks ago, the anticipation of remembering was all I could think about. My happiness was dependent on it. But now . . . I almost fear the memories’ return.
Saying good-bye to Kieran might be the hardest thing I have to do.
The picture I tucked in my notebook three weeks ago is still there—Kieran and his friends at boarding school, laughing and happy. I’ve kept it for him, but I’m starting to understand that it might be best to let some memories go. It’s easier when it’s a single memory like this one, compared to a lifetime of them—that fact keeps me attached to Clementine, even when I’m tempted to let her go completely.
The Upside of Falling Down Page 13
