Hot Whispers of an Irishman

by Dorien Kelly

  “I take it you think vegan is code for miniature?” Vi asked.

  “No, it’s code for I damn well better make it look nice because here on the edge of civilization, it’s hell to come up with the right flavors this time of year.”

  Vi laughed at Jenna’s out-of-sorts comment. For a woman so overtly feminine in appearance, she had some sharp teeth to her.

  “Don’t worry,” Vi said. “We’ll all lie and say everything’s wonderful.”

  “Thanks,” she said as she whisked some stuff in a bowl.

  “That’s all that’s bothering you?”

  “The vegetables, and Sam and Reenie…they’re having one of their fights. It’s like living in the middle of a stage production when they visit.”

  Reenie was Jenna’s younger sister, lover to a movie star, and before that, already quite well spoilt by her jet-setter parents.

  “And there’s more,” Jenna said, pouring the bowl’s contents into a larger bowl filled with frilly lettuces. She began tossing it. “I had an unexpected visitor a while ago.”

  “Who?”

  “Your mother,” Jenna answered, but only after widening the gap between Vi and herself. “She got here just after we talked.”

  “My mother? You’re sure?”

  Jenna started to mound the lettuce onto white salad plates. “Of course I am,” she said as she worked at a lightning-fast pace. “She looks the same as she did at Michael and Kylie’s wedding.”

  Which meant royally peeved.

  “Put four roasted beets at the edge of each of these,” Jenna directed Vi, who was glad for the distraction.

  “I don’t suppose you told her you’re booked?” Vi asked as she fumbled with the tiny vegetables.

  “Right. Then she’d be at your door.”

  At that miserable thought, Vi abandoned the beets and pulled the bottle of white wine that Jenna must have been cooking with. She poured some into a water glass from the tray by the hall entry, then shoved the bottle back to her friend.

  “I could have offered you better,” Jenna said.

  “This will do.” Vi took two large swallows and winced as they hit her empty stomach.

  “Hope so, because I’ve invited her to dinner.”

  “Bloody damn hell! Why’d you do that?”

  “It’s Monday, which means the restaurant is closed, and when I suggested a few places in the village, she pulled a helpless act.”

  “Aye, she’s helpless as a shark.” Vi sighed. “And how long is she staying?”

  “She asked for the reservation to be open-ended. Since we close for Christmas holidays, that gives you a little less than a month, at the outside.”

  Vi finished her wine and tried to reach for a refill, but Jenna moved the bottle out of range. “Go to the lounge. Dev will pour you a glass of something you’d better not swill.”

  “You’re sure you need no help in serving?” Vi asked, as always unwilling to face her mam.

  “You’re out of luck. I have a server arriving any second. Go on out there and face your fate.”

  “Fate with a wee shove from you.”

  “Could be worse. At least you’ve got Liam Rafferty waiting for you.”

  That sped Vi’s steps, for the thought of Liam with her mother was enough to put her hair on end.

  Vi entered the lounge, where the group was having cocktails. It appeared a quiet gathering, and Vi supposed she could always count herself thankful that no one in the room was pregnant or apt to yatter on about babies and nappies and such. However, ensconced on the sofa was indeed Maeve Kilbride, Sixteen Curlew Court, Kilkenny, where Vi heartily wished her mam had stayed.

  Next to Mam sat Meghan, who had pulled up her sleeve and was showing off what appeared to be a new tattoo on her forearm. “It’s henna,” she was saying to Mam. “Grandda gave me a kit before we left Duncarraig.”

  Mam limited her comment to one disapproving arch of her brows.

  Liam came up and settled a hand on Vi’s waist, then gave her a brief kiss. “You look beautiful,” he said in a low voice. “Almost as much so as earlier, on your bed.”

  “I’d have been a bit underdressed had I arrived like that,” Vi said, then looped her fingers through Liam’s, intending to drag him with her for this mam-greeting.

  On the way, she said quick hellos to Sam and Reenie, who appeared to have survived their latest tempest, and to Kate, who was Dev’s mother, and her lover, Brendan Mulqueen, a sculptor famous enough to also be a tourist attraction. Dev was behind the small bar set up in the corner of the room, too far off to be used as an additional evasion.

  Vi leaned down and gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek. “Hello, Mam, it’s a surprise to see you.”

  “Of course I’m here. I’ve a grandchild on the way.” She held out an empty martini glass. “Freshen my drink, would you, Violet?”

  Taking it was a rote action, as Vi’s mind was too busy filtering its way to the truth of her mam’s statement to actually direct her hand.

  “Be right back,” she said to Mam, thankful for Liam’s palm beneath her elbow as she made her way to the bar.

  Of course Maeve had a grandchild on the way, and had known so since early summer. Until now, the news hadn’t been enough to make her pick up the telephone or write a letter inquiring after Kylie’s health. No, this had to do with Mam, not babies, and not her own children, whom she spoke to as infrequently as possible.

  “Holding up all right?” Dev asked once Vi had rather ungently deposited the martini glass on the bar’s small ledge.

  “Better with wine, I’m thinking,” Vi answered. “And don’t be wasting your fine Chateau Frou-frou wine on me. I’m drinking for effect, not flavor.” She glanced over at Liam. “What are you drinking?” she asked, thinking she’d just go for the same.

  “Chateau Frou-frou,” he said, then tucked his arm around her waist, drawing her closer. As Dev laughed and then poured Vi her very own flighty French wine, Liam said to Dev, “And make Maeve’s martini a double-shot.” He squeezed Vi momentarily tighter and said, “You have my word we’ll lull her into complacency.”

  As Vi had no better plan, she went with what was offered. She and Liam returned to the sofa, and Liam sent Meghan off for another Club Orange. Vi settled in at her mam’s right hand and Liam at her left.

  “So truly, Mam, why Ballymuir just now?” Vi asked.

  Mam took a quick sip of her martini, then said, “If your father can have a holiday, I can, too.”

  “I wouldn’t call it a holiday that Da’s having.”

  “I would,” she said with clamp-jawed finality.

  And on second thought, so might Vi. Bachelor days in Duncarraig had likely sounded too tempting to pass up.

  “Shall I take you to visit with Kylie tomorrow?” Vi asked Mam, who had dredged the stuffed olive from her drink and was giving its contents a suspicious, squinty-eyed look.

  “Visit Kylie?” she echoed, as though Vi had suggested a day at the dog track.

  “Aye. She’s home now, just waiting for the baby.”

  “I can get there well enough, myself,” Mam said. “But do tell the boys I expect supper with them tomorrow.”

  Which would no doubt take place at Vi’s home. She sipped her wine and prayed for some form of divine intercession. Mam rendered suddenly mute had a fine appeal.

  Just then, Jenna came into the lounge. She had changed from her chef’s jacket into a soft blue woolen jumper. Her husband arrived at her side with such speed that Vi had to hide a smile at their obviously love-sotted state.

  “If you’ll all follow me into the dining room and prepare to suffer,” Jenna said. “The victims’ dinner has begun.”

  Liam was hard-put to decide which had been the greatest woe of his evening: eating a meal that he could have as easily cropped from a field, or having to do so under Maeve Kilbride’s disapproving glare.

  He’d thought the Russian vodka he’d made certain she was plied with would have calmed her mood. Instead, s
he had grown more cross with every passing moment. Luckily, she had gone upstairs as soon as the meal was finished, claiming a headache. If she had lasted much longer, he feared that Vi would have ended the evening tongueless. He’d never seen her hold back so many comments.

  And as for Jenna’s meal, Liam knew it was a fine example of what it was meant to be. It had had flavor and color, just not a damned bit of meat, which had him nearly as out of sorts as Maeve. Vi, on the other hand, had reveled in the food if not her mam’s company, even stealing from his plate. It was just as well, for in the future when they dined out, he could eat their entrees and she could graze on the garnish.

  For the past hour and more they had sat in Jenna and Dev’s library, enjoying coffee rich with liqueur and a chat. Upon hearing that Liam was a diver and worked in marine salvage, Dev had immediately led him to a series of books on treasure and shipwreck off the Dingle peninsula’s coasts.

  It seemed that in the era of Auld Queen Bess, this area had been quite the hotbed of smuggling and sedition. Liam had immediately culled one book on Spanish gold and planned to read it later tonight, as he knew sleep would be slow in coming. Vi’s tension seemed to have funneled itself into him.

  As conversation meandered from local characters to politics and Ireland’s economy, Liam relaxed. He savored the smoky scent of the peat smoldering in the fireplace, the camaraderie, and the incredible sensation of Vi tucked at his side. He’d never really stayed in one place long enough to experience this. Definitely not with Beth, who’d developed a set of friends and social life that had nothing to do with him. True, he had his mates always up for a drink when he arrived again in a port, but nothing this steady…this right.

  A distant buzzing sound drew Liam’s attention from the conversation.

  “Is that the front bell at this hour?” Dev asked Jenna.

  Liam glanced at his watch and was surprised to see that it was nearly eleven.

  “I’ll be right back. It’s probably just a guest who forgot their key,” Jenna said while rising.

  “All the same, I’m going with you,” her husband replied. “Carry on,” he added to Liam and Vi.

  Feeling unsettled, Liam rose and after nudging aside the drape a bit, looked out the side window. Floodlights set to accent the house’s gardens exposed a heavy drift of white in the air.

  “It’s snowing, and in no small amount,” he said to Vi. “I’d feel better if you’d let me give you a lift home.”

  She laughed. “I’ve been driving these roads nearly twelve years. If you weren’t staying here tonight, I’d be making the same offer to you.”

  He smiled as he returned to her. “And now that you’ve put it that way, I’d be taking you up on it. Still, I’d like to coddle you a wee bit. It’s part of being in love.” He again sat next to her on the broad sofa and put his arm around her shoulders. “Should I feed you peeled grapes, or paint your toenails, or better yet, Roger’s?”

  Laughing, she swatted his chest. “You could always shut up and kiss me, you eejit.”

  “Best idea of all,” he said, then let action follow word. God, how he loved this woman, and how he dreaded making a misstep large enough to lose her. She always seemed poised to flee. With that thought in mind, he cupped her face and tried to draw out the kiss to eternity.

  Liam came up short, though, for someone cleared their throat, signaling a return to the room. Vi broke their embrace and scooted a bit away from him. He was about to tug her back and tell her that Jenna and Dev surely knew that lovers liked to sit closely together, but something in her expression stopped him.

  He looked to the door, and Dev, who had someone standing behind him, wore an even odder expression.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but Liam, I have someone here for you,” he said, then moved aside, bringing a tall, blond, and familiar woman into view.

  Liam felt as though his world had been put into a giant shaker and tossed around.

  He stood. “Jesus, Beth, what are you doing here?”

  “Hello’s a pretty standard greeting as opposed to ‘Jesus, Beth,’” she said as she entered the room. “And I’m here to get Meghan.”

  Liam had already guessed the reason for her arrival, but hearing the words was like having his heart stop beating. He’d just started to learn Meghan’s quirks and talents, her charms and the ways she had yet to grow. He wasn’t ready to hand her back like so much excess baggage.

  “I’ll leave you now,” Dev said. “And Jenna will be here with a warm drink for you shortly, Beth.”

  She thanked Dev, but Liam saw that her attention had shifted to Vi. He gave a names-only introduction between the two women, as more words would only mire the situation.

  Beth, who looked as weary and rumpled as he’d ever seen her, sat in an armchair at a right angle from the sofa. While she was settling in, Vi nodded her head toward the door, obviously asking if she should leave. Liam gave a negative shake of the head in answer. And though he knew it was a politically dicey move, he returned to his seat next to Vi. He needed her presence too much to care if Beth was somehow offended.

  “Where’s Meghan?” his ex-wife asked.

  “Upstairs asleep these past few hours.”

  She nodded. “Good. She’ll need her rest. I won’t bother waking her until it’s time to leave.”

  “And where is it you’re thinking of taking her? Not back to Saudi Arabia?” He fully hoped she’d say yes, so he’d have firm grounds to fight her.

  “No. I quit my job on Saturday and have been working toward getting here ever since. I’ve flown stand-by and with everything but cargo, but here I am.”

  “So you are. And do you have plans?”

  “We’re going back to Atlanta. I have enough savings to make it a few months unemployed. In that time I should be able to come up with a job that’s suited to raising my daughter.”

  “Our daughter,” he corrected.

  Beth tilted her head and looked at him. After a moment she gave him a half-smile.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I never would have believed it. You’re late to the party, but welcome to parenthood.”

  Liam seized the opening offered. “That being the case, would you give me at least a few more weeks with her?”

  Vi rose from next to him and walked to the door. Liam watched as she took a mug of something from Jenna and delivered it to Beth. After giving Vi a curt nod of thanks, his ex-wife took a sip and at least made a show of considering his question.

  “She’s supposed to be in school, Liam,” she finally said. “From what you’ve described, she’s missed a month of any real studies already.”

  “But I called her school this morning. Her books are being shipped and she’ll do most of her assignments via e-mail. This is no great risk, Beth.”

  “I’m the custodial parent,” she said. “And I don’t want her running wild out here.”

  The way she’d said that, then eyed Vi, was an annoying echo of Liam’s mam. “She’d not be running wild. We’re just here for a visit, and—”

  “How long of a visit?”

  “Two days, two weeks…what does it matter? I’ll take her to archeological sites and have her write a bloody paper. How wild is that?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Then what is?”

  “She needs to be in her school, with her teachers. We can make arrangements for a few weeks with you this summer. How’s that?”

  “Not bloody good enough.”

  Beth sighed, then glanced at her watch. “Meghan and I are booked on a flight out of Shannon Airport tomorrow morning at ten, which means I’ll need to be back on the road by…what?” She pinned Vi with a demanding look.

  “With the weather, no later than five,” Vi said. “But this is all a bit sudden, don’t you think? Perhaps if you stayed here at Muir House just a few more days?”

  “I think this doesn’t concern you,” Beth said in a far less genial tone than she’d been using on him.

  �
��She’s right,” Vi said to Liam, then began to rise.

  He settled his hand on her knee, halting her. “If it involves me, it involves you. Stay…please.”

  This time, his asking did no good. “No,” she said. “This is between you and Beth. I’ll be waiting for you in your suite.”

  “The one where Meghan’s sleeping?” Beth asked.

  “Bloody hell. I wasn’t planning a mad shag on the sofa,” Vi snapped.

  Beth glared back at her.

  Vi took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly, then spoke again. “Fine, then. Come find me in the kitchen when you can, Liam.”

  As Liam took in Beth’s angry gaze, he knew two things: he would not win any more days with Meghan, and he could not get to Vi soon enough.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When things get tough for the witch, she has to run.

  —IRISH PROVERB

  It was the sort of Tuesday morning where one was best served by hiding indefinitely under the duvet. Despite Liam’s insistence that she go home and not worry about him, Vi had spent the night at Muir House. There had been only one bedroom left, which she’d quickly ceded to Beth. The library sofa was less diplomatically perilous territory.

  Liam had come downstairs long before it was time to ready Meghan to leave. Vi had awakened to find him sitting in an armchair nearby, nearly a specter of a man. She had cocooned with him on the sofa and let the warmth of her body give him peace, or at least a passing illusion of it.

  At four-thirty, Liam returned to his suite. Vi stayed in the library until the very last, then came to the front hallway to say her goodbyes to Meghan. The girl was muzzy with sleep and gave her father a muffled one-word farewell, which Vi knew hadn’t been intended to sting, but clearly did. After mother and daughter had departed, Vi brought Liam back to his rooms.

  “What a goddamn awful start to a morning,” were his last words before she made quiet love to him, then let him drift off to sleep so his spirit could mend.

  Having him close worked a spell of sorts on her, too. Soon she was dreaming of long-gone days of perfect youth. Nan’s cottage was as it had been when Vi was younger, and the well-tended maze of wild roses and herbs smelled like heaven on her dream’s soft, rain-kissed day. Vi saw herself and Liam walking down the lane toward Nan’s painted stone. Liam was saying something to her that she sensed was important, but a shrill ringing drowned him out.