by Nan Dixon
They talked for a few minutes, then Jerry asked her to dance again.
“Sure.”
He pulled her out of the chair and guided her to the packed dance floor. They moved to the music. All she heard was the booming bass, loud enough to mask the lyrics.
This was what she wanted. She could lose herself in the crowds and noise and have a drink with a friend.
“Is everyone here?” she yelled to Jerry.
“Just Sonjia, Tom and me,” he shouted back. He pointed to a table near the floor.
She waved at Tom and Sonjia. Then spun in a circle, bumping into the dancers next to her. Hopefully, Jerry hadn’t seen her disappointment.
Had Liam fallen back into his old habit of working every waking hour? Hadn’t she cured him of that problem?
The song ended. She started to move off the floor, but Jerry caught her hand. “One more?”
She shook her head. “I need to head home.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
At the table, she gathered her coat and purse. “I’ve got to go.”
“What?” Shock filled Anne’s face. “It’s barely eleven.”
“I’ve got twelve- to fifteen-hour days facing me next week.” Maybe by working until she was exhausted, she’d fall asleep without thinking about Liam. Maybe she’d forget how she’d loved being with him, how holding his hand made her smile. How she’d screwed up and fallen in love with him.
“I miss you, girl.” Anne gave her a hug. “Let me know if you need a break during hell week.”
Dolley wove her way through the crowd. She rolled her shoulders. She’d wanted to get back to her real life. Working and then hitting the clubs. Having fun.
But nothing fit anymore. She didn’t belong here. Maybe she didn’t belong anywhere.
* * *
“I NEED DOLLEY FITZGERALD’S contact info,” Evan said to Liam after he answered his mobile.
Liam glanced across the library. A week before the holiday and the B and B was full. Dolley helped Cheryl with the wine tasting. A man chatted with her as she poured red wine into his glass. She laughed, but he wasn’t fooled. Her smile never lit her eyes.
She wore a deep green frock with tights. The green made her eyes look huge. And her golden-red curls danced around her face. He wanted to crush her curls with his hands. Crush her in his arms.
“You were impressed?” Liam asked Evan, heading out the library door.
“Very.”
“Let me get some place where it’s not so loud.” Liam entered a small empty parlor, and the noise faded.
Besides having Evan review her blog, Liam had sent the editor some of the photos they’d taken together. “What did you think?”
“Are you sure she’s just starting out? Some of those shots in the cemetery are breathtaking. And I love the statue of the girl waving in the fog.”
Liam’s grin ached, like he hadn’t smiled much lately. Without Dolley acting as his Fun Mentor, he forgot. “Hire her. You won’t regret it.”
“I thought I could give her a test assignment,” Evan said. “She has such great pictures of that cemetery, an article on Bonaventure would be a good trial.”
“I’ll text you her contact info.” Liam sank onto the small sofa. “Do me a favor. Don’t mention my name.” Dolley might resent his help.
“Why the hell not?” Evan asked.
“Tell her you found her blog.”
“I’d think you’d want credit, but all right.”
Liam slipped his phone into his pocket. He could head back to Carleton House and work on rough edits.
Since he barely slept anymore, it was better to work than stare at the wall. Or worse, sit and drink Jameson and watch Dolley’s apartment. That was just...creepy.
He’d make one more plate of food and go back to work.
When he walked into the library, one of the two sisters from Mississippi waved. “Liam, come back and join us.”
Was that Judith or Darlene?
“We saved your seat,” said the other sister.
“Had to fight off the masses to keep it for you,” the darker blonde said.
He was almost positive she was Judith.
Dolley glanced over, her stare icy. He didn’t fool himself that she might be jealous. Probably just wanted him gone.
“I need to get back to work.” He moved to the buffet. Tonight’s offerings were all Spanish, including Spanish wines paired with tapas.
“But it’s almost St. Patrick’s Day.” Judith came up beside him and added a stuffed date to her plate. “Party time.”
Was that a snort from Dolley? He glanced behind him.
Dolley pulled an empty wine bottle off the table. She jerked. Slipping her phone out, she looked at the number and frowned.
He ducked his head, not wanting to appear too interested.
“Do you have dinner plans?” Darlene asked. When had she snuck up behind him?
“I can’t.” He topped off his wineglass. “It was nice to meet you.”
“You too, Liam.” Darlene sighed.
“Let us know if you want to go to a pub or dinner,” the younger sister added.
“Thanks.” That wouldn’t happen.
He headed out of the library with his plate.
Dolley sat in the parlor talking on the phone. For the first time in a week, her sparkle was back. Her curls danced as she gave a little bounce on the sofa.
He stopped, memorizing the sight. Maybe he’d done something right.
She might put the pieces together and realize he’d done this for her. Not that he was looking for thanks. But he wanted her to understand he knew her dream.
He just wished he could be part of her life.
* * *
“I’M INTERESTED. VERY INTERESTED.” Dolley could barely catch her breath. “How did you get my name?”
“One of the staff was checking out Savannah sights and found your blog. They brought it to my attention. Your pictures are excellent, and your writing style is engaging.”
“Mr. Bennett, I love your magazine.” She’d admired their articles and photographs both online and in print.
“Please, call me Evan.”
“Evan. Of course.”
“Would you be interested in doing an article on Bonaventure Cemetery for the magazine? It would be a trial.” He gave her the word count.
“For The Relaxed Traveler? Absolutely.” She couldn’t keep from bouncing on the sofa. This was...unreal. To think her blog had gotten the attention of an editor.
“We’d need the article and photos by the twentieth of March.” He named a price.
“That’s no problem.” The money wasn’t fantastic, but she was just starting out. And she had so many cemetery and statue pictures already. Her biggest problem would be deciding on the focus of the article.
“I’ll send a contract and sample articles.”
“Thank you for this opportunity.” She gave him her email address.
After Evan hung up, she closed her eyes. She had a photojournalism gig. Was she dreaming?
Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she pinched herself. I have to tell Liam. Rushing out the door, she pulled up short. Her shoulders sagged. She and Liam weren’t talking. The excitement leeched out of her like a deflating balloon.
At least she could tell Abby.
She dug deep for her joy. This was what she wanted. She was going to live the dream. Become a professional photographer.
But because she couldn’t share the news with Liam, the bounce had left her step.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A camera is a tool for learning how to see without a camera.
Dorothea Lange
LIAM SHOWED HIS arm band and
press pass to security at the barriers to River Street.
“Come on.” The woman waved the crew through the line. “Good luck.”
People pushed past him. The crowd was an undulating ocean of green, ebbing and flowing through the street. The yeasty scent of beer saturated the air. Drunk raucous voices rolled like faraway thunder. Were all the quarter of a million people trying to walk through River Street?
“We’ll never hear you if we try and tape,” Jerry yelled in his ear.
“Get crowd shots. I’ll—” Liam threw up a hand “—do voice-overs.”
Jerry nodded and set the camera on his shoulder, panning the crowd.
Tom was at Forsythe Park, shooting the greening of the fountain. Sonjia had another camera set up on a Carleton House balcony filming the parade. Dolley shot stills.
Everyone worked but him.
Dolley wiggled through the crowd, her camera aimed at Jerry. Then she swept over and took a series of Liam. She even pointed the camera at the pavement littered with beer cups and confetti.
She hadn’t said a word about Evan’s offer. If that didn’t tell him how far into the loo their relationship had fallen, he didn’t know what else would.
But Evan had raved about the work she’d turned in—four days early.
He couldn’t stand here feeling sorry for himself. He tugged out a camera, setting up his own shots.
A drunk grabbed Dolley’s shoulders and kissed her on the cheeks. Liam’s camera caught the surprise on her face.
“Luck of the Irish,” the drunk called, weaving through the crowd.
She shook her head.
The street was dangerous. He pushed his way to her side. “Maybe you should head back to the B and B,” he shouted.
“I’m okay.” Someone bumped into her, and she stumbled.
He wrapped his arms around her, and she curled into his chest. He took a deep breath, memorizing her warm scent.
This was right. Not being in Savannah. Not being with the Fitzgeralds. Holding Dolley was his sanctuary.
“Stop.” With a small whimper, she pushed out of his embrace. “I want to get above the street. I’m going to the hotel.”
“Not worth fighting your way through the crowd.” And he didn’t want to lose sight of her.
“Oh, come on, Delaney, where’s you sense of adventure?” Her smile almost reached her eyes. “It’s St. Patrick’s Day. Live a little.”
Live a little? His chest ached. He couldn’t imagine life without her. “I’ll come with you.”
She took in a sharp breath.
He made hand signals to Jerry. Then he mouthed, “Meet you back at the B and B.”
Nodding, Jerry was swept away by a group of half-snookered visitors. How could anyone think this was fun?
Somehow he and Dolley fought their way to the hotel. She talked her way up to the rooftop restaurant. River Street stretched below them, a teeming green snake. They both took pictures, but his heart wasn’t in it. His pictures would be mediocre at best.
“I usually stay away from River Street on the holiday,” she murmured as they headed to the elevator.
“I figured you’d love the noise and celebrating.”
“Oh. I do like that.” But her face scrunched into a frown. “Or I did.” She shook her head. “When I was in college, we would come down here, but now—” she waved her hand “—it’s too much for even me, the party girl.”
They crowded into the small elevator with other guests. He faced her, waiting to hear more. “Party girl? Is that how you see yourself?”
“Sometimes.” Her shoulders rose and fell. “I think that’s how my friends see me.”
He leaned down and whispered, “Why do you beat yourself up?”
“What are you talking about?” She really looked puzzled.
The elevator disgorged, and they were swept out with the crowd.
He pulled her away from the mass of people. “You think of yourself as the non-talented Fitzgerald sister and a party girl. Why can’t you see that you’re incredible? Why can’t you see what I see?”
Her mouth dropped open. Her eyes were big green saucers. “What do you see?”
Someone bounced into Dolley’s back, shoving her into him. He wrapped his arms around her, protecting her.
Tipping her head, he said, “I see the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I wish you understood that.”
Her hands rested on his waist. Her face had a deer-in-headlights look. She opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut.
“You shine like...like the brightest star in the heavens. Like Polaris.”
“No. It’s Sirius.”
“See. You’re amazing.” He tightened his arms around her. It might be the last time he held her. “You don’t need accolades and awards and recognition. You just need to be to shine.”
“Liam.” She buried her head in his shoulder.
“I...” He took a deep breath. “I love you.”
Her head shook against his chest. “Don’t. I know this is about my family.”
“This isn’t about your family. This is about you. Me loving you,” he whispered. “It’s not your family. I love you.”
She pushed away. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “It’s too late.”
“I’m so sorry I hurt you.” The hollow ache in his chest might never fade. He had to make her understand. They didn’t have many days left. When he left, he wanted to believe the hurt that filled her eyes would disappear with him. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know.” She turned away but glanced back, her eyes brimming with tears. “It doesn’t change anything.”
* * *
DOLLEY’S HANDS SHOOK, making the Guinness bottles she was nesting into the ice chest clank together. Liam said he loved her.
It’s not your family, I love you.
How could someone who hurt her so badly make her feel so comforted? When it came to men, she was a fool. She should have pushed away from him as soon as he’d hugged her.
Placing the last bottle in the chest, she grabbed the empty box and headed to the kitchen, her feet so heavy she had to force them to move.
Abby looked up as she pushed through the swinging door. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She broke down the box and put it with the recycling.
Bess came in the courtyard kitchen door. “Smells great in here.”
Dolley sniffed. The earthy, warm scent of Abby’s Irish stew and the buttery smell of biscuits filled the room. She hadn’t noticed.
“Why are you chewing your poor lip?” Abby asked her. “It’s swollen. Stop.”
Liam was the cause. She couldn’t confess that to her sisters. “I’m waiting for the editor to get back to me on the article I submitted. I’m afraid he’ll think it’s garbage.”
She wished she’d told Liam about her article. She’d wanted him to review everything, but he wasn’t going to be around every day to check her work. She had to have confidence in her own abilities.
Maybe the editor hated it. Maybe it had been so amateur, he wouldn’t respond.
“The editor will love it,” Abby insisted. “I never realized how much you doubt yourself. Why do you do that? You’re amazing.”
“He’s lucky to have you putting together an article.” Bess poured a mug of tea and warmed her hands.
Dolley blinked. “Have you both been talking to Liam?” He was her biggest advocate.
Abby frowned. “I haven’t seen him in a couple of days.”
“Neither have I.” Bess scooted over to her. “Anything interesting happening between you and your dreamy Irishman?”
“Stop.” It was strange that both Liam and her sisters would be so complimentary—all on the same day. She wasn’t amazing. “I’m just...ordinary.”
Liam made her feel like she was extraordinary. Her sigh blew a curl out of her eyes.
Abby planted her hands on her hips. “You are no such thing.”
“You’re my sister.” Dolley headed to the coffee station and poured a cup of decaf. “You have to say things like that.”
“I wouldn’t say them if they weren’t true.” Abby put her arm around Dolley’s shoulders. “What’s up? You’ve been quiet for the last two weeks.”
Dolley sighed again. “Why are men...so...obtuse?”
“Obtuse?” Bess asked. “They’re dumber than a pile of dirt. Well, not Daniel. He’s a lot smarter now we’re engaged.”
Abby squeezed Dolley’s shoulders and headed to the stove. “What did Liam do?”
Dolley shook her head, walking over to stare out the courtyard windows.
“You’re working all the time. Is he taking advantage of you?” Bess slipped into one of the armchairs in the sitting area.
She shook her head. “Liam said he was in love with me.”
Both Abby and Bess converged on her.
“What?” Bess pulled her away from the window.
“In love?” Abby took her hands.
“The first time he told me, I was third behind our family and Savannah. And at that point he thought he was falling for me.” Dolley sank on to the ottoman. “I was a distant third to the first two mentions.”
“Dolley, not everyone is as literal as you are.” Abby rubbed a hand on her back. “You’ve watched him fade into the background and observe. Why would you think expressing how he feels would be any different?”
“Because...because it should be!”
“And how did you react to his confession?” Bess sat in the chair and touched Dolley’s knee.
“I broke up with him. The only reason he cares is because he wants a family—he wants to be part of the Fitzgeralds. He’s thirty years old and still describes himself as an orphan.”
“That’s so sad,” Bess said. “He needs a family.”
“That’s not the point.” Dolley pushed off the ottoman and paced between the back door and the sitting area. “I don’t want to be someone’s afterthought. I’m not the means for Liam to acquire a family.”
