A ping on the computer distracted her. The little chat bubble said it was her sister. She clicked on it.
Mary Fran’s face filled the screen, looking so much like a younger version of their mother that it startled Nora for a minute.
“Can’t believe I caught you online.” Mary Fran said. “How’s the great adventure been?”
“It’s been good.”
“Just good?” Mary Fran frowned. “Are you hurt from your accident?”
Nora realized it had become habit to be cautious and non-committal with her responses to her sister. She took a deep breath. “It’s been wonderful.”
Mary Fran shook her head. “God, I admire you so much.”
Nora goggled at her, certain there had been some glitch in their connection. “Sorry?”
“I said I admire you.”
“For what?” Nora was still sure there had been a disconnect somewhere.
“For doing this,” Mary Fran said. “For getting away. For living your life the way you want. I’ve always admired you.”
“No, you haven’t.” Nora’s disbelief was reflected in the small image of herself in the upper corner of the screen. She closed her mouth. “You were the most popular girl in school. You were friends with everyone. I had, what? Two friends? You’re an artist. You’ve got two beautiful kids and a great husband. You’ve accomplished all kinds of things. I’ve accomplished nothing.”
Mary Fran leaned forward, her image enlarged so that Nora instinctively drew back.
“Are you kidding? You are the bravest person I know.”
At Nora’s dubious expression, Mary Fran burst out laughing. “You climbed to the top of the Kennedy’s tree next door.”
“Only because you dared me. And I broke my arm when I fell climbing down.”
A shadow darkened Mary Fran’s expression. “But I never left the ground.”
Nora didn’t know what to say. “I’m just a librarian.”
Mary Fran smiled. “My kids think librarians are superheroes. And you especially, because you’re a librarian at a university.” When Nora didn’t respond, she added, “You have always known what you wanted to do, no matter what anyone else said. I always worried about what other people thought. You went to grad school, got your master’s, built the career you wanted. And look at you now. You’re in Ireland, doing what you’ve always dreamed of doing. I think it’s great.”
She sat back. “You really don’t see it, do you? I’m sorry I never said this before.”
“Thank you for saying it now.”
A few minutes later, when Nora walked out to the pergola, Sheila did a double take at Nora’s dazed expression.
“Everything all right?”
Numbly, Nora nodded. “You know those movies or books where someone misses a train and some alternate reality plays out, where their life goes in a whole different direction? I think I’m experiencing one of those moments.”
At Sheila’s confused expression, Nora said, “Just had a weird talk with my older sister. Turns out she admires me.”
Sheila shook her head. “Told you so.”
Nora set about helping Sheila repot and label a new delivery of plants as part of a colorful autumn display.
“Still a bit distracted, are we?”
“Hmmm?” Nora blinked up at Sheila, who pointed at the pots in front her.
“You’re putting the wrong labels on those. The pink ones are alstroemeria, the white ones are anemones.”
“Sorry.” Nora plucked the small tags out of the plants and reversed them.
“Thinking about your sister?”
Feeling Sheila’s probing gaze, Nora gave up. She’d learned better than to pretend around her cousin.
“I’m going to the cottage this afternoon,” she said casually. “With Bri.”
Sheila nodded. “That’s good. It’s probably time.”
“Yeah. I mean, I have to pack up, don’t I?” Nora heard the tremor in her own voice. “And I’m going to tell her I’m moving to Ireland.”
“You’re—” Sheila dropped her trowel and pulled Nora into a hard hug. “Are you really?”
Nora held her and released the breath she’d been holding. “You’re okay with it?”
Sheila released her from the hug but held her at arm’s length. “Why wouldn’t I be? I think it’s brilliant. And does it matter, if you’ve truly made up your mind?”
Nora grinned like a fool. “No, it doesn’t matter, and it won’t change my mind. I’d just feel better if I knew you’re okay.”
“Of course I am!” Sheila hooked her arm through Nora’s. “You know this calls for tea and biscuits.”
Nora laughed. “I was hoping for tea and biscuits.”
They marched to the kitchen, where Nora put the kettle on and Sheila laid out a plate of her ginger biscuits.
“You make the tea,” Sheila commanded when a car drove up. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Rusty sat in between the stove and the table, making sure Nora saw him as she set about getting mugs and tea bags.
“All right, one cookie,” she said sternly, breaking one cookie and giving him part while she popped the rest into her mouth.
It seemed half of her good memories of Ireland were connected to this kitchen and the talks—the craic—that had been shared here. Sheila was back soon, dropping into a chair, her elbows on the table, her blue eyes focused on Nora.
“So, tell me.”
“It was the céili,” Nora said. “And what I now know about my ancestry, and… everything. I just know this is where I belong.”
“No doubts?” Sheila reached for a biscuit.
Nora shook her head. “No doubts.”
“And you’re going to tell Briana today? Because I’m not sure how long I can keep this quiet.”
“This afternoon.” Nora couldn’t help a small frown.
“What?”
“One of the things I had to figure out, was would I still want to move here if Briana doesn’t feel the same way about me. If she doesn’t want to be together, in that way.”
“And?”
Nora smiled as Sheila handed Rusty another cookie. “I would. With or without Bri in my life.”
Sheila grinned broadly. “But you’d rather have her in it.”
Nora nodded, grinning back.
“Then I guess you figured out that puzzle.”
“Most of it.” Nora sighed. “I’m hoping to have the rest of my life to learn where the rest of the pieces fit.”
Sunlight glinted off the windows when Briana drove down the lane and Nora got her first glimpse of her cottage since that day. She reached for Bri’s hand.
“You okay?” Briana asked worriedly. She wasn’t so sure this was a good idea.
“How can it seem so foggy in my head and so ingrained, all at the same time? My memories are so clear, but I don’t think they’re real. At least they weren’t all mine.”
“You don’t have to go in.”
Nora took a deep breath. “Yes, I do.”
Briana followed her to the door before remembering she’d returned the extra key to Orlagh McCarthy, but Nora produced a key from her pocket.
“Sheila and Fiona locked up when they came to get my stuff.”
She turned the key and pushed the door open, but remained standing on the outside of the threshold. When nothing happened, she gave an embarrassed laugh.
“Not sure what I expected.”
But Briana felt equally reluctant to step inside. Shannon answered by pushing in between them and striding into the parlor. They followed hesitantly.
“Do you feel anything?” Briana asked.
Nora shook her head. On the desk, her journals and papers lay, undisturbed, along with her pens. Everything looked orderly. She leafed through some of the hand-written pages.
“Your book.” Briana motioned toward the stack. “Sorry I laughed at that the first night, at the pub.”
“I suppose it did sound silly,” Nora said. “Funny th
ing is, I have enough material now for five books. But none of it is mine.”
“Sure it is. You lived it through them. With them. Writing their story gives them new life, doesn’t it?”
“I guess it does.”
They peeked into the kitchen.
“Ugh,” Nora said, opening and then closing the refrigerator very quickly. “Nothing otherworldly about that. Least they could have done is take out the trash.”
It was the first time in ages Briana had heard her joke about the other inhabitants of the house. She took that as a good sign and reached for the rubbish bin. “Let’s get it done now.”
They spent a half hour emptying out the fridge and cupboards of all the food, bagging what was still edible and tossing what was going bad.
Bri carried the bags to the car while Nora took the rubbish out back. When Briana came back in, she looked around.
“Where’s Shannon?”
“Hmmm?” Nora glanced at her from where she’d been standing outside the kitchen door, staring at the woods.
“Are you okay?” Briana asked.
“I’m fine. You can’t find Shannon?”
“No. She’s not in the parlor. She hasn’t been here with you?”
Nora shook her head, and Briana went to the front door, calling. Outside, there was no sign of her dog. Shannon never ignored her call.
“Briana,” came Nora’s voice from upstairs.
Bri sprinted up the steps, taking them two at a time, her heart in her throat. There in the front bedroom, sprawled on her side in the sunlight streaming through the window across the floorboards, Shannon reposed, her eyes closed, perfectly at peace. Only her tail thumped when they entered the room.
“I guess they really are gone,” Briana said. “Móirín and Rowan.”
“They’ve moved on,” Nora said. “At last. Just like Aoibheann.” She turned a slow circle. “It feels kind of anticlimactic. For them to just disappear without even saying good-bye.”
She reached for Briana’s hand. “After I leave…”
Briana tried to pull away, but Nora held on tightly. “I’ll have things to take care of. Back in the States.”
Why did you let this happen? You knew she was leaving. Against her will, Briana’s eyes moved up, held captive by the expression in Nora’s—the love there, the tenderness. Bri wasn’t sure her heart could take much more of this. Say it. Tell her you’ll go to America with her.
So preoccupied was she with her own thoughts that she almost didn’t hear what Nora was saying. “Wait. What did you say?”
“I said,” Nora said, smiling, “that I’ll have to sell my townhouse and all my extra stuff. It may take a little time to get my family to accept my decision, but my grandparents will help.”
“Your decision.” Now Briana’s heart galloped in her chest. She might just collapse on the floor beside Shannon if this kept up.
Nora led her to the bed. The old mattress sagged under their weight when they sat.
“Sheila and I already started the paperwork on this end for a work visa. And once I’m back, I’ll start the citizenship process. I’m not sure which will be faster. The whole business might take six months before I could get back here.”
Briana stared at her. Was this for real, or was Nora just having her on? Bri leaned over, her elbow on her knee. “Sweet Jesus, I think I’m going to pass out.”
Nora let go of her hand. “Is that… Do you not want me to move here? I mean, I’m still going to, but it doesn’t mean you’re chained to me or—”
Briana sat up and silenced her with a kiss. “You silly Yank,” she murmured when she could talk. “Of course I want you here. I was ready to move to America to be with you.”
“You—” Nora drew away enough to look into Briana’s eyes. “You would have done that? Really?”
Briana gave a non-committal sideways nod. “If I had to.”
Nora laughed and pulled Briana into an embrace. For long minutes, they sat like that, Bri’s head resting against Nora’s chest.
“Do chroí, mo chroí.”
“Your heart, my heart,” Nora translated, kissing the top of Briana’s head. “Do you think I can talk James McCarthy into selling me this cottage?”
Briana peered into Nora’s face to see if she was kidding. She wasn’t. Bri lifted one shoulder. “Only if you don’t tell him the ghosts are gone. If he knows that, he’ll charge you an arm and a leg for this place.”
Nora chuckled. “We could tell Orlagh. She’d love to be rid of this cottage.”
“That she would.” Briana held her breath. “Are you sure?”
“Well, this is kind of my home place. Just like White O’Morn was Sean’s.”
“No, I meant about… It’s a big step, leaving everything you know.”
“It is, but I feel as if my whole life has been leading me here.”
Nora traced a finger along Bri’s cheek. “As I was saying,” she continued. “When I buy this place, will you move in here with me? Help me fix it up? Make it our home?”
All the panic Briana had been feeling left, just cantered away, leaving only a sense of calm. “No.”
Nora’s face fell, the playful expression in her eyes gone dull. “No,” she echoed in a strangled whisper.
“I can’t,” Briana said.
Stiffly, Nora nodded and dropped her hand. Briana got off the bed and stood in front of Nora, so that she was actually the taller.
“I could never live here with you in your place,” she said. “But I would buy it with you. So it would be our place. Our home.”
It took a minute for her words to sink in, but Nora’s face lifted, a smile once again lighting up those beautiful eyes.
“Our home. That sounds so wonderful. This cottage used to hold such love. It would be nice if it did again.”
“Are you sure?” Briana asked. “Neither of us has ever lived with anyone. We’ll probably drive each other mad.”
Nora considered, and Bri wondered if she should have planted that seed of doubt in Nora’s mind.
“I once told Sheila that I thought the heart was a bittersweet garden, filled with thorns and loneliness and heartache.” Her eyes shone with tears. “I’ve spent the summer, feeling the pain of those who died without answers, without hope.”
She looked deeply into Briana’s eyes. “I don’t want to go on living like a ghost, just skimming the surface, afraid to let myself love. I do love you. More than I thought I was capable of loving anyone.”
Briana bowed her head. “And you know I love you, but I can’t promise there won’t be thorns. I wish I could, but… I know how hard I am to love.”
Nora tipped Briana’s chin up, forcing her to meet her gaze again. “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. It’s just another bar on the fence.”
Briana smiled. “Trust it.”
Nora nodded. “Trust it.”
Nora sat in the waiting area of the Dublin airport for her Aer Lingus flight, trying unsuccessfully to concentrate on her book. Saying good-bye to everyone had been harder than expected, helped only by the fact that it was temporary. Orlagh McCarthy had, in fact, told her husband that if he didn’t sell that cottage to Nora and Briana, she was going for an extended visit to her sister in Sligo, leaving him to cook and clean for himself. Nora suspected her grandfather had also put a little pressure on him as they dickered on a fair price.
All of the McNeill family were planning a visit to Ireland next summer—though they didn’t yet know that Nora would in all likelihood be living here by the time they came.
“I think I should tell them that part in person.”
Fiona and Jack were more excited than anyone at the prospect of having Brigid and Tommy back home again.
“I’ll have the kettle on and biscuits baked and waiting when you get back,” Sheila had promised with a tight hug.
Briana’s family, when they got to Dublin and told them everything, had been ecstatic, especially Kieran, who was looking forward to having
an extra auntie. Cara was doubly excited because Briana finally agreed to shop for an iPhone so she and Nora could FaceTime.
Briana had even promised to come to the U.S. to meet the McNeill clan and spend Christmas. “I’ve never flown anywhere,” she said nervously. “But I want to meet your family, especially your grandparents.”
The ride to the airport had been silent. Nora tried to think of something to say, but words were too hard. They parked, and Briana got Nora’s bags from the cargo hold. Nora had given Shannon a last hug, and then followed with her backpack and carry-on while Briana wheeled the larger suitcase.
“I’m not saying good-bye to you,” Nora had said before getting in the security line, ignoring the few stares they got as she kissed Briana one last time. “I’ll see you soon.”
She’d looked back until she was shepherded through the security gate and lost sight of Briana. Fighting the urge to run back to her, Nora got through security and customs.
After a three hour wait, Nora was roused from her thoughts by the uniformed woman at the gate announcing boarding for her flight. She queued up and shuffled along with the other passengers. After wrestling her luggage into the overhead bin, she took her window seat and buckled her seat belt.
She sat back and tried to relax as the plane slowly filled. An older couple took the two seats next to her. She closed her eyes, sending her thoughts to Briana, hoping she could feel Nora’s love. Eventually, the plane backed up and taxied to their runway. When the pitch of the jet engines changed and the airliner took off, she opened her eyes. With her forehead pressed to the glass, she watched the earth drop away, first the airport buildings and then the houses and the highways and then the fields and smaller roads—all becoming smaller and smaller.
The view from the air this time was glorious—the sun sparkled on the rivers and loughs as the jet made its way west. She tried to identify which lough was which, to try and locate Cong. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t see it. Her heart was there and always had been. She sat back with a smile.
“Heading home?” asked the man next to her.
A Bittersweet Garden Page 28
