“Where’s Rowan?” he complains. “She should be helping.”
Móirín lays the baby in the cradle and goes to the door. No sign of that girl. “Rowan? Rowan, time for tea!”
With a shake of her head, she goes back to put the bread in the oven and begin warming some lamb stew. When the food is ready, there’s still no sign of Rowan.
“Go call your sister,” she says to Callum.
He goes out the front door and bellows, “Rowan! Get in here. Now!”
Back in the kitchen, he says, “No sign of her, Ma.”
“This is getting tiresome,” Donall says. He strides outside and calls again, sternly this time.
Rowan knows that tone and always comes from playing her hiding games. But there is still no answer.
He goes back inside. “We’ll eat without her. Teach her to go wandering off.”
Móirín casts a worried glance out the window, but dishes out the stew while Donall tears the bread.
By the time they’ve finished eating, there’s still no sign of Rowan.
“This isn’t right,” she frets. “Donall, Callum, go search for her. Please.”
She prays as daylight fades and there’s still no sign of them. When they return, her heart leaps—but only for a moment.
Callum looks as if he’s been crying, and Donall’s expression is grave. “We came home to get lanterns.”
Móirín clutches the baby to her chest as they light the lanterns and go out into the night to resume searching.
Briana woke with a start. She stretched, enjoying the relaxed feeling of her body. Making love with Nora was so unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. Sitting up in bed, it took her a moment to remember where she was—Nora’s cottage—and another moment to realize she was alone. No Nora. No Shannon. She yanked on jeans and a T-shirt and stumbled downstairs to find the two of them sitting side by side on the back stoop, Nora’s arm draped around Shannon. She joined them, sitting on the cold flagstone on Shannon’s other side.
“You scared me,” she said. “Thought you’d gone running off into the forest in your sleep and I didn’t notice.”
The hand that was wrapped around Shannon opened, and Bri took it.
“No running,” Nora said. “Just couldn’t sleep.”
Overhead, the sky was lightening to a deep rose over the treetops to the east.
Briana yawned. “If we’re going to be waking this early, we need to get a coffee maker for this cottage.”
“No point, is there?”
Bri leaned forward at the almost angry tone of Nora’s voice to peer at her from under Shannon’s head. “Are you okay?”
Nora released Briana’s hand and shoved to her feet. “I’m fine.”
Briana slowly followed her into the kitchen to put the kettle on for tea while Nora started making porridge.
“Sorry,” Nora muttered with a deep sigh. “Just tired.”
“More dreams?”
“Yeah.”
Briana knew they should probably be talking about what she was pretty sure was really bothering Nora—and should be bothering you. In a little over a month, Nora would be leaving. Going back to the States. Briana had no idea where that left them. She opened her mouth to say so, but closed it, turning to get bowls and cups from the cupboard.
Breakfast was silent, each of them preoccupied by her thoughts.
“Briana,” Nora said at last, reaching for Bri’s hand again. “We need—”
“Hello! Anyone up?” came a shout from the front of the cottage.
Briana reluctantly released her hand and carried the bowls to the sink while Nora went to let Quinn and Sheila in.
“All set for our adventure?” Quinn asked as he stomped into the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Briana said, busying herself with the dishes.
“Everything okay here?” Sheila asked, coming into the kitchen on his heels, her sharp eyes flicking from Nora to Briana.
“What did I miss?” Quinn whispered.
“Hush,” Sheila said.
“Everything’s fine,” Briana said, placing the last mug in the dish drainer. “We all set?”
Without waiting for an answer, she marched out the front door.
“Drive or walk?” Quinn asked when they followed her outside.
Nora headed into the trees surrounding the cottage.
“I guess we’re walking,” Sheila said.
“This is the way I always go in my dreams,” Nora said over her shoulder.
The others followed after her, threading their way through the trees.
“There used to be a trail here,” Nora said.
“This is not normal,” Briana said. “She knows where there used to be a path almost a hundred seventy-five years ago.”
The forest seemed to close around them, with thick tree trunks and dense canopy shutting out the early morning light.
“I… I don’t know which way from here,” Nora said, turning in place. “It looks different, more trees now, and they’re bigger.”
“It should be this way to the circle,” Quinn said, pushing past her.
He broke a trail for them through dense undergrowth until they stepped into a large clearing.
Unlike the thick greenery of the woods, the glade looked almost groomed—no trees or bushes, only knee-high grasses.
“Looks like someone’s been here,” Briana said, noting the trampled grass in places.
Nora went to a squat stone and knelt with a hand on it. She looked around. “It’s changed so much from my dreams…”
She stood suddenly, pointing. “That oak. That oak tree was in my dreams.”
She walked the perimeter of the circle, from stone to stone, touching each for a moment as the others waited for her to recognize something. When she came to the oak, she stepped out of the circle and went to it. Laying her hands on its enormous trunk, she sighed.
“I don’t know what I thought. If I came here, I might suddenly remember something.”
Quinn swept an arm toward the woods beyond the oak. “If you came here from the cottage in your dreams, and you remember this tree, stands to reason you might have gone in this direction. Let’s walk on, see if anything else looks familiar to you.”
“Makes sense to me,” Sheila said.
Briana kept a close eye on Nora as they all followed Quinn back into the deep shadows of the forest. They spread out, no one sure what exactly they were looking for.
“Have a care,” Sheila called out. “It’s boggy here.”
Bri’s own foot squelched into some mud. She picked her way carefully, searching for firm footing. She watched as Nora’s head swiveled, looking desperately for familiar landmarks.
“Do you have any idea what we’re looking for?” she asked.
“Not really,” Nora said. “No, wait. Bird cherry.”
“What?” Quinn stopped and turned to her.
“Every time the ghost, or ghosts, have been in the cottage, there’s been the lilac smell of bird cherry.”
The problem was, there were at least a dozen bird cherry trees scattered throughout this section of forest, most of them saplings and not nearly old enough. But finding the trees didn’t seem to yield any clues.
Briana marched along, cursing under her breath. The time she had left with Nora was short enough as it was. This mystery of the cottage’s past seemed to be something that wasn’t going away, and it had become almost an obsession for Nora—but it was embarrassing to feel she was competing with a pair of ghosts for Nora’s attention.
Her stomach clenched with the tension from earlier in the morning, the unwelcome reminder that no sooner had she found someone she wanted to spend nights with, maybe have a future with, than that someone was going to be leaving at the end of the summer. And in the meantime, they were tromping around in the woods, looking for—
Without warning, the ground beneath her foot disappeared as her leg sank almost to the hip into a hole she hadn’t seen.
“Damn!”
Th
e others hurried to her. Quinn reached under her arms and plucked her out of the hole, setting her back on her feet.
“What was it?” Sheila asked. She parted the ferns that had covered the opening, prodding the edges of the hole with her shoe.
“We’re not that far from Pigeon Hole cave. This area is probably riddled with springs and limestone holes,” Quinn said. “You okay, squint?”
Bri gingerly tested her knee. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“You sure?” Nora asked, wrapping an arm around Briana’s shoulders.
Briana nodded.
Nora gave her a squeeze before releasing her.
“I think we’ve earned a big lunch,” Sheila said. “Let’s go back to our place.”
“Sounds good,” Nora said, pausing for one last look back into the green shadows before following the others toward the circle of stones.
“All right. What’s going on?”
Nora blinked and looked up from the computer. “Well, I’m updating the website to include all of your autumn-scented creams and candles, and—”
“No.” Sheila sat down beside Nora. “What’s going on with you and Briana? Things seemed tense between you when Quinn and I got to the cottage this morning, and now you’re here, and she’s not. So what’s going on?”
“Nothing. She has work to do at the stable, same as Quinn, and I need to get this done.”
When Sheila simply sat there staring at her, Nora caved. “All right.” She reached out to touch a finger to a small desk calendar. “In a few days, it’ll be four weeks from the day I will leave here. One month. And this morning, Briana started talking about buying a coffee maker for the cottage. Like we have some kind of future together, and…”
She paused when her voice cracked. It was a few seconds before she could continue. “I guess it’s just starting to feel real. I’ll be going back to my job and my life.”
“And leaving this one.”
“And leaving this one.”
They sat for a long moment.
“Which one,” asked Sheila, “feels more real to you?”
Nora supposed her confusion and indecision must have shown in her eyes because Sheila leaned forward and laid a reassuring hand on her arm.
“Instead of thinking of it as only a month left, why don’t you look at it as you’ve four whole weeks yet to enjoy everything—Ireland, your time with Bri, living your dream. See where it leads you. A lot can happen in four weeks.”
Sheila stood but then paused at the door. “You know, even if you decide to go back to the States, you’re a different woman now than you were when you arrived. It won’t be the same.”
She went to putter about in the shop, leaving Nora to think about what she’d said as she resumed her work on the website. The computer pinged a message. She’d been checking in on her sisters’ posts on Facebook, looking at photos of the kids enjoying their summer trips to the beach and amusement parks. She’d commented on a few of them, her homesickness for her family adding to her almost nauseous feeling of uncertainty.
But this message wasn’t from her sisters. It was from Mamma. We sent you an email. Make sure you open the attachment.
It was kind of funny that her grandparents had become tech savvy enough to track her down online and send emails with attachments.
She opened her email. Sure enough, there it was, among twenty other messages.
Nora,
Your grandfather and I took a little trip after our chat with you and Fiona. We went up to Clinton, Massachusetts to research the genealogy records there. We found some interesting photos in their Historical Society archives. Stay safe.
Love you,
Mamma & Pop
Nora clicked open the attachments to find scanned copies of old photos. Enlarging the images as much as she could without making them too grainy, she saw a wooden building with a sign that read “Clinton Smithy.” Standing in front of it was the man she’d seen in her vision, Donall O’Hara. Beside him was a teen boy. She guessed that must have been the oldest son. What was his name? Callum. There were other photos of the smithy in different seasons, most with horses tethered alongside wagons, then a few with early automobiles in the background. She was scrolling through the photos and stopped.
Leaning closer to the monitor, she gaped.
Standing next to one of the horses was a girl with what looked like white-blonde hair, hanging in a long braid over her shoulder. Even across nearly two centuries, the eyes were mesmerizing.
“That’s impossible.”
She was just opening an email to send a reply to her grandmother when Facebook pinged again.
It was Amy. I’ve been trying to catch you online. Can we talk?
Nora’s first instinct was to close the window, but that was cowardly. Using her forefinger to peck her reply, she typed, Yes.
A second later, Amy’s face filled the screen, familiar as Nora’s own, but somehow different than Nora remembered, older and more tired.
“Hi,” she said, smiling.
“Hi.” Despite Nora’s misgivings, it was good to see her.
“How are you?”
“I’m good.”
Amy’s eyes narrowed just the tiniest bit. “Thought I’d hear from you before now. Did you get my message about maybe coming to Ireland?”
Nora felt her face get hot and knew that Amy could read her, even through a computer thirty-five hundred miles away. “I did. But I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy to spend some time with me?”
Her tone was just sharp enough and the barb just pointed enough to raise Nora’s ire. “I would have thought you’d be spending as much time as you could with Tracy this summer. What would she think if you left to come here?”
Touché. That had hit a nerve, but Nora immediately felt guilty.
Amy’s expression changed perceptibly. “Tracy and I aren’t seeing each other anymore. Her girlfriend found out about us, and… She broke up with me.”
Nora opened her mouth to reply but didn’t know what to say. “Oh.”
“I don’t want to lose you, Nora.”
Nora frowned. “Lose me? You’re the one who broke up with me, remember? To explore things with Tracy.”
“I… I know. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But does that mean we have to throw away all our years together? You’re my best friend.”
Amy smiled again, trying hard to bridge the gap that had somehow turned into a chasm the size of an ocean. The Atlantic, to be precise.
“There’s still time,” Amy said. “I could come over. I’ve got my passport all set.”
“Um… that really wouldn’t work,” Nora stalled, thinking fast. “I’ve got commitments here—”
“You’ve met someone.” It wasn’t a question. “Haven’t you?” Amy demanded when Nora didn’t say anything.
Why are you feeling guilty? Nora asked herself. “Yes,” she admitted.
“What’s the point of that?” Amy asked. “When you’re only there for three months.”
What was the point of getting involved with someone who was already in a relationship? But Nora didn’t say it.
“What happens when you come back?”
“I may not be coming back.” It was out before Nora could swallow the words. Shit.
“What?” Amy stared open-mouthed.
Nora took a deep breath, but felt surprisingly calm. “I said, I may not be coming back. I haven’t made a firm decision yet, so please don’t say anything to my family.”
Amy deflated visibly. “I’m going to end up alone, aren’t I?”
A wave of pity engulfed Nora. “I hope not, Amy. I mean that.”
A moment later, after an awkward good-bye, Nora sat staring at the computer.
“Are you okay?” asked Sheila as she set a cup of tea on the desk.
Nora jumped.
“I didn’t mean to listen, but the sound carried,” Sheila said, sitting next to the desk with a mug of her own.
Nora sat back, sipping her tea. �
�I am okay. I didn’t intend to tell her that, but I’m glad I did.”
“I thought you handled it well.”
“I cut her out of my life.”
“She’d already done most of the cutting,” Sheila reminded her. “And you were kind. Kinder than I could have been, I’m thinking.”
Nora reached for the mouse, but Sheila stopped her. “Enough of this for today. We’ll work on it tomorrow. Go to Bri. And send Quinn home.”
As much as Briana loved the trails around Cong, with their views of the lough and the castle, and as much as she loved the horses, she realized almost every ride she took was with a purpose—training usually, or getting horses shuffled from one stable to the other. When work was done for the day, that was it. Rarely did she saddle up just for the pleasure of an evening ride. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had before Nora arrived.
Nora was becoming a good intermediate rider, even learning to jump. In the ring, Briana had set up a beginner’s course for her.
“Stubbs may not look it, but he’s a jackrabbit when it comes to jumping,” she’d told Nora. “He knows more than you do. Let him set his stride. Grab mane and stand in your stirrups, just like I showed you. Trust it.”
To her chagrin, Quinn had seen and was now after her to take on students, same as Sonya and Liam did. “You’re a natural teacher,” he’d said to her, but what he hadn’t said was that it would be good for the stables for her to teach paying students. She was grudgingly moving in that direction.
Nora’s advancing skills allowed Briana to take her on less-groomed trails, where they jumped downed trees and crumbling stone walls demarcating fields where sheep still grazed.
She’d begun looking forward to their late-day rides, sometimes returning to the barn after sunset.
The evening of their search of the stone circle, she and Nora ambled along the shore trail on Lizzy and Stubbs while Shannon romped ahead.
Nora reined Stubbs to a halt, looking out over the lough. “I don’t know how you stand it.”
Briana turned Lizzy around to join them. Following her gaze, she felt she was seeing things with new eyes. The early evening sunlight slanted through puffy clouds to gild the turrets and towers of the castle. A few tourists, probably castle guests, strolled the trails, but not many wandered this far out. Many more could be seen walking the gardens closer to the castle. Boat tours were done for the day, leaving the lake calm and glassy. A few ducks paddled near the shore while swifts darted through the air, seeking insects. Out on the lake, the islands were dark humps.
A Bittersweet Garden Page 19
