“Fix her up with what?”
Jimmie and Nora both whirled around.
“Hello,” Nora said with a smile.
“Nora’s after taking a ride this afternoon,” Jimmie said, consulting a chalkboard on the wall. “Sonya’s free until a group at two, so—”
“I can take her.”
Jimmie turned, his mouth hanging open.
“Close your mouth,” Briana said. “You’re gonna catch flies.”
He closed his mouth. “You. You’re willing to do a guided?”
“Well, it wouldn’t really be a guided now.” Briana stuffed her hands into her pockets. “I mean, she’s working for Sheila and Quinn, same as we are, so…”
Jimmie grinned. “Works for me.”
“Thanks,” Nora said.
A telephone sounded from the end of the barn. Jimmie went inside to answer it.
Briana looked Nora up and down, taking in her jeans and trainers. “So how long has it been since you’ve ridden?”
Nora frowned as she thought. “Um… about fifteen years.”
Briana swallowed her laugh. “Then we’ll take it easy your first time out.”
A half hour later, they rode side by side along a trail through the woods. Nora sat stiffly, the reins clenched in her hands as her gelding held his head up, nostrils flared.
“Relax,” Briana said. “Let your body move with his walk. Feel the rhythm, and relax your hands, too. He feels the tension.”
Nora loosened her stranglehold on the reins, and the gelding immediately lowered his head and settled into a comfortable ramble.
Briana studied her for a moment, trying to decide what it was about Nora that was so odd. She was long and lean but… ungainly. Kind of like the colt she’d been working with earlier. Her elbows and knees flopped about.
“Tuck in a bit,” she suggested. “Snug your legs to the saddle so William feels you’re a part of him.” She watched Nora’s body swaying with his walk. “That’s better.”
“William?” Nora asked.
“Yes. This is Yeats.” Briana leaned forward to pat her bay’s neck.
Nora laughed. “And is there a Butler?”
Briana grinned. “As a matter of fact, there is. They were all foaled the same spring and were tight as thieves. Always up to mischief. We needed three names and these worked.”
They rode in silence for a while. Shannon loped tirelessly alongside the horses. Nora relaxed enough to begin looking around, tugging at the chinstrap of her riding helmet.
“It’s so peaceful here.”
Briana nodded. “’Tis. I love it here. I hate to leave, even for a few days.”
“Are you leaving?”
“Only for the weekend, but two days in Dublin will feel like two months. My nephew’s birthday,” she added at Nora’s questioning glance.
“I got a quick view of Dublin from the bus.”
Briana stared.
“What?” Nora asked.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met a tourist who wasn’t all excited about Dublin and the bigger cities.”
Nora didn’t look pleased. “I don’t think of myself as a tourist.” She gave a little shrug. “Though I guess I am. I knew I wanted to be here. The plane landed, and I caught a bus from the airport, whirlwind view of Dublin to Galway, and then a local bus to Cong.”
For some reason, that warmed Briana inside.
“I’m not much for cities,” Nora went on. “We live not an hour from DC, but I can only stand going in for special shows or exhibits. A few hours, and my skin’s crawling, all that concrete and all those people.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Briana said.
“I’m confused,” said Nora. “Did you grow up in Dublin and then move here?”
Briana twirled her finger. “Kind of the other way round. Born and grew up outside Waterford, but then my sister and her husband found work in Dublin, so my parents moved as well, to be nearer the grandchildren they were counting on.”
“How did you come to be here in Cong?”
Briana weighed how honest to be with her reply. “I always wanted to work with horses. After—after my family settled in Dublin, I found Quinn. He was looking for someone. It fell into place.”
Nora seemed content with that explanation.
They trotted and cantered for a bit, Briana keeping a close eye on Nora. She was still floppy, but she could stick in the saddle.
“You look like a jockey,” Nora said breathlessly when they slowed to a walk. “The way you sit the horse. You look like you could fly with him.”
Briana felt an old weight settle in the pit of her stomach.
Something must have shown on her face because Nora asked, “Are you okay?”
Instead of answering, Briana pointed toward another trail forking off to the right. “We’ll go that way. It’ll take us to the lough.”
As they meandered, Briana saw movement through the trees. She signaled to Nora to pull the horses to a halt. In the clearing beyond stood a group of three people—a man and woman with one of the falconers. Suddenly a hawk came swooping down to land on the gloved arm of the man. The woman exclaimed and snapped photos with her phone.
“From the falconry school,” Briana said. “It’s a treat, if you’re interested.”
They reached a trail that followed the lakeshore.
Nora turned in the saddle to look back. “Just like the movie.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Quiet Man. This view of the castle reminds me of the opening credits.”
“Really?”
Nora gaped at her. “You’ve never seen it?”
“No.”
“You live in Cong, and you’ve never watched The Quiet Man. Have you gone to the museum?”
At Briana’s shake of the head, Nora threw up a hand. “Oh, my gosh. I just— How can you live around this and not know?”
Briana cocked her head. “Know what?”
Nora threw her hand up again in frustration. “You live it. Every day. I don’t know if I can put into words how much this place called to me before I ever saw it for myself. It’s just magical.”
Briana snorted. “It’s far from magical. You Americans romanticize Ireland so that it can never match up.”
Nora thought about this as the horses walked on. “I suppose we do. I think every Irishman—and woman—who ever left here for America brought that longing with them. That’s why there are so many sad Irish songs.”
Briana grinned. “We are good at tugging on the heart.”
They followed the path along the lake for a while.
“What did Jimmie mean, when he was so surprised that you would take me out?” Nora asked. “Which one is Sonya?”
“Sonya Lindberg. You’ll know her when you see her. She’s like a Valkyrie. She and Liam do most of the guided rides and the lessons. Jimmie and Quinn every now and again.”
“You don’t normally do these rides?”
Briana shook her head. “I’ll do anything else needs doing, and there’s always something needs doing around a farm. But not the guided rides.”
“Then why did you offer to take me?”
“Well… you…” Briana stuttered, cursing the telltale blush she knew had risen to her cheeks. “Like I told Jimmie, this isn’t a regular guided.” Flustered, she asked, “Would you rather have had someone else?”
“No,” Nora said quickly, but Briana could have sworn she was hiding a smile behind those eyes the same soft brown as Yeats’s coat.
Out on the lough, the tour boat chugged by on its way back to the castle. Briana raised a hand as the mate waved.
“Would you like to come to Dublin this weekend?”
Where the bloody hell did that come from, Briana wondered in horror. For a moment, she hoped it hadn’t actually burst from her mouth, but Nora turned to her.
“To Dublin?”
“Well, you didn’t get to see any of it. I’ll be busy for part of it with my nephew’s birthda
y, but I can get you to where you can explore, and I’ll join you when I can.”
Nora’s face broke into a brilliant smile. “That sounds nice.”
“You said you’re a librarian. I’ve a friend from school who is on the faculty at Trinity. I can call her to see if she can give you a tour if you like.”
“That’s really nice of you. Thanks. I think I can handle a weekend.”
Briana nodded curtly. “Well, then. That’s fine.”
Chapter 5
Nora sat with her laptop in a busy coffee shop, catching up on email with her family. She finished a long message to her youngest sister, Amelia, and hit Send. Sitting back, she reached for her latte.
It had been an incredible day. She smiled to think of herself considering a day spent first locked in a car with Briana Devlin and then spent in the biggest city in Ireland as incredible, but… You wanted to stretch yourself, do things differently from the way you’ve always done them, she reminded herself.
Briana had arrived at the cottage promptly at seven a.m. She took Nora’s carry-on bag from her and tucked it in the cargo hold of her white Hyundai.
Shannon, taking up most of the back seat, had gently nosed Nora’s ear in welcome as she got into the passenger seat.
“The cottage looks nice,” Briana had noted as she backed up.
“Thanks,” Nora said.
Cheerful flowers and bushes bloomed in beds along either side of the door, courtesy of Sheila’s nursery. Some of the ivy had been trimmed away, and the windows had had a good scrubbing.
“It doesn’t look so lonely anymore,” Nora said with satisfaction as they drove away.
“Lonely?”
Nora laughed self-consciously. “Nothing.” The cottage had been anything but lonely, but she didn’t say that.
Briana drove for a few minutes. Nora noticed she kept glancing over.
“What?”
Briana raised one shoulder. “It’s… You look nice.”
“Thanks.” Startled, but pleased, Nora felt her cheeks warm as she tucked her hair behind her ear, glad she’d left it hanging loose about her shoulders.
For months, when she’d first started letting her hair grow, Amy had complained about it. It became a mantra every single weekend. “You look shaggy” or “Your hair’s a mess” or some such thing. But Nora had already had this half-baked plan in her head—a plan to get away, to spend this summer in Cong, and she wanted her hair long enough to simply pull back without having to worry about it.
It was funny, she mused now, sitting in the coffee shop. Something as simple as her hair had been the first of many little, secret steps—getting her passport, speaking to her supervisor about an extended leave, researching Ireland’s visa and citizenship regulations. She’d scrimped and saved, bringing her lunches from home for months, not shopping for new clothes or going to the movies.
She was still amazed at herself. It had been ages since she’d pushed ahead with something she wanted to do if someone else thought it was a bad idea.
When did that change? she wondered. As a child, she’d always been the stubborn one, insisting on figuring things out her own way. At some point, she’d ceded that independence for peace. It had become easier than listening to all the “I told you so” comments from Mary Fran, her older sister—and later, Amy—if her way didn’t work at first.
Thinking back now, she remembered exactly when it changed—the first day of classes in sixth grade. With Mary Fran only a year older and one grade ahead—but in a different school for the first time in Nora’s life—her teacher, Mr. Williams, had given them quizzes to see what they’d retained from the prior year. When he saw her math and English scores, he’d said, “So, you’re not a copy of your sister.” Her heart had sunk at yet another comparison with Mary Fran, who was pretty and popular and athletic and had a gazillion friends. None of which Nora was good at, no matter how hard she tried. But when Nora got her papers back and saw that she’d gotten a perfect score on everything, Mr. Williams had grinned and winked. In that moment, Nora made the decision to excel in the things that Mary Fran didn’t.
When her dad nicknamed her No-nonsense Nora, Mamma had said, “Leave her alone,” but Nora liked it. She became the opposite of her sister—serious, studious, a loner who preferred staying in and reading on weekend nights rather than going out. Not that she’d had anyone to go out with. Until she met Amy in grad school.
At first, the happiness of their blossoming friendship had felt to Nora like a chance to start over, to reinvent herself, but somehow, even after the friendship had stumbled into a kind-of romance, she was still just Nora. Plodding, smart-but-dull Nora.
And then, the idea of this escape to Ireland had taken root, like a weed that wouldn’t go away. Mamma and Pop had been the only ones Nora confided her plan to at first. They’d been delighted to help—“part of the resistance,” Pop had joked. That was when Pop had contacted Mr. McCarthy and arranged her cottage. When she finally worked up the nerve to tell everyone, her family’s reaction—to her surprise—had been amazement.
“I didn’t want to say anything until…”
“Until it was all laid out, to the smallest detail,” her mother, Mary Kate, had said admiringly.
“Until it was too late to change your plans,” Amy had accused bitterly.
Nora hadn’t pointed out that that was the point. She closed her eyes and sat back with her coffee cup. Here, there was no one trying to arrange her life for her. No one to tell her where to plant her flowers at the cottage or not to put her desk in front of the window because it might rain in, when she loved the way the light shone and the breeze ruffled her papers. Most importantly, there was no one to tell her she wasn’t good enough to write her story. Well, almost no one. Briana’s snarky comment about her coming to Ireland to write a book still stung.
Briana. What was it about her? It was embarrassing to admit—even to herself—how much she liked watching her, the way she moved, bouncing a little with the energy she could barely contain, coiled up inside that tight little body. Even in the car today, her muscular arms and lean thighs had fairly vibrated as if she couldn’t relax if she tried. She could be so abrupt, to the point of being rude, and then so unexpectedly kind.
Nora’s eyes opened. She set her cup down to see Briana standing outside, watching her through the window with a bemused smile on her face. It was really annoying that the sight of her made Nora’s heart race in a way that could not be good.
By the time Nora had her laptop tucked away in her backpack, Briana was standing next to the table.
“How was your nephew’s birthday?” Nora glanced around. “And where’s Shannon?”
Briana grinned. “Probably letting Kieran ride her. He’s been glued to her all day. I think he had a good time.”
She took Nora’s backpack and led the way outside, holding the café door for her.
“We can hide your bag in here where no one will see it,” she said when they got to where she’d parked. She lifted Shannon’s blanket off the back seat and folded it over the bag. “I think we’ll be better off walking from here, and then I’ll drive you to your guest house.”
“Where are we going?” Nora asked, falling into step beside her.
“My sister, Cara, told me about a place near here that most of the tourists don’t know about. It should be a bit quieter.”
Briana stopped suddenly. “Unless you’re after noise and crowds.”
“No.” Nora smiled. “I’ve had a day of crowds.”
They continued on, weaving a path through the people on the sidewalk.
“Are you limping?” Nora asked.
“No.”
And she wasn’t now, but Nora could have sworn…
“How was your day?” Briana asked.
“It was wonderful!” Nora took Briana’s arm without thinking. “Thank you so much for calling your friend. Gemma showed me around Trinity’s campus and got me in to see the Book of Kells, which is incredible. Then I foun
d a few other museums and spent the day going through them, just wandering around.”
She realized she was still holding Briana’s arm and let go. “It was nice, but I’ll be ready to get back to Cong and my quiet little cottage.”
When they got to the pub, Nora insisted on buying the first round, trying a Smithwick’s at Briana’s suggestion. They placed their food orders at the bar and carried their pints to an empty table in a back corner.
Nora watched the families with young children, mixing with older folks—all of them seeming to be locals. A few dogs were lying politely under tables, waiting hopefully for scraps of food to fall. She took a deep drink of her ale and caught Briana studying her.
“What?”
Briana tilted her head. “I just don’t understand you.” She looked frustrated.
“What is there not to understand?” Nora scoffed. “No one else has ever had any trouble.”
Briana shook her head. “I don’t believe that. Or they only skimmed the surface.”
Nora wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so just took another drink.
“You hardly said a word the entire drive here from Cong,” Briana said. “But then you’re fine meeting a total stranger, roaming a city you’ve never been, in a country you’re visiting for the first time.”
Briana frowned, as if maybe she could see the answers if she just glared hard enough.
Nora squirmed under the scrutiny. “I figured if you wanted to talk, you would. I enjoyed the ride, just listening to your music. And I told you, Gemma was delightful. Dublin is nice, as far as cities go.”
“I could never do that.”
“That I can believe.” I couldn’t have done it a year ago. But Nora chose to keep that thought to herself, as she’d then have to explain why.
Thankfully, their food arrived at that moment, cutting off any further interrogation from Briana. Nora dug into her colcannon, but out of the corner of her eye she saw that Briana wasn’t eating.
Briana leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her hands hovering a fork and knife over her steak. “You know what I think?”
Nora dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “I’m not sure I want to know.”
A Bittersweet Garden Page 7
