I'll Be Home for Christmas
Page 28
Savannah’s lips twitched at his vaguely disgruntled tone. “No,” she agreed. “It certainly doesn’t.”
“Then again, I’m used to making quick decisions. And I do think it’s exactly what Mae had in mind when she insisted I come here for Christmas.” He met her gaze. “And just so you know, with these quick decisions of mine, I rarely make mistakes.”
“Is that so?” Savannah said quietly. “Well, it’s certainly true that Aunt Mae was an incredibly wise woman. She hasn’t steered me wrong so far.”
“Me, either,” Trace said, regarding her warily. “So?”
“So what?”
“Bottom line? I’ve fallen in love with you. Something tells me that if I don’t reach out for what I want with you now, it will be the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Then reach,” she said softly, her gaze locked with his.
Trace held out his hand. Savannah put hers in it, and for the first time in her life, Savannah felt as if she were truly part of a whole, something real and solid, with a future that was destined to last forever.
“There’s something about this place,” she said with a sense of wonder. “It must be Aunt Mae.” She lowered her mouth to Trace’s. “She always did get me the best gifts of all.”
* * * * *
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“Brenda Novak doesn’t just write fabulous stories, she writes keepers.”
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“Sherryl Woods takes readers back to Trinity Harbor in an engaging story... You’ll enjoy the Spencer clan.”
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Lilac Lane
by Sherryl Woods
Prologue
The death of Peter McDonough would have been a blow at any time, but coming as it had on the very day Kiera Malone had finally accepted his proposal of marriage left her reeling. After her first husband, Sean Malone, had abandoned her with three young children, she had vowed never to let another man into her life, much less into her heart. She’d clung to her independence with a fierce protectiveness. She’d made a practice of scaring men away with her tart tongue and bitter demeanor, even knowing as she did so that she was dooming herself to loneliness. Better that than dooming herself and her children to another loss, another mistake.
After the death of his wife, Peter, bless his sweet soul, had waited patiently on the sidelines for Kiera, running his pub in Dublin, supporting her daughter, Moira, in her efforts to make a career of the photography that Kiera herself had thought of as nothing more than a hobby, and making the occasional overture to Kiera.
To Kiera’s confusion, not even her best efforts to push him aside and make clear her lack of interest, efforts that had chased off every other man who’d approached her, seemed to dissuade Peter. He took her rebuffs in stride. If anything, his not-so-secret crush had deepened.
More troubling, aside from his thick, curly hair and firm jaw, he had a combination of traits that drew her to him—strength balanced by gentleness, bold determination tempered by patience and a booming laugh that could fill her heart with unexpected lightness. He was, in all respects, a man who knew exactly what he wanted, and he wanted Kiera. She had no idea why.
Moreover, he’d had the support not only of her father, Dillon O’Malley, but of her daughter. Up until then, Moira, like Dillon, had approved of very few of Kiera’s choices in life. Yet for once Moira and Kiera’s father had conspired to push Kiera and Peter together at every opportunity. Since their approval had been granted so sparingly over the years, she’d been persuaded to be less resistant than usual. What was the harm, after all, when she knew it would come to nothing? Relationships tended to deteriorate over time, even those begun with passion and hope. They ended. At least that was her experience.
But then Moira and Dillon had somehow convinced Kiera to move back to Dublin, where, they’d said, there were more opportunities. They dangled new opportunities like strands of glittering gold, told her any one of them would be an improvement over her dead-end career in a dingy neighborhood pub in a tiny seaside village on the coast north of Dublin where she’d toiled for long hours and low pay for most of her life. Moira had actually had the audacity to scold her for accepting security for her family over any ambitions she might have once had to run a restaurant of her own.
“Where’s your confidence and self-respect?” Moira had demanded. “You’re a far better waitress and cook than I am. And you’ve management skills, as well. Look at how well you’ve kept our family afloat.”
Kiera knew the truth of that. Moira was competent, but her heart wasn’t in the restaurant business, not even that Irish pub she was hoping to run with her new husband in Chesapeake Shores, Maryland. Luke O’Brien was the attraction there.
Moira’s clever argument took another twist. “After all Peter’s done for me, it’s only fitting that I not leave him in the lurch when I move to Chesapeake Shores. Come to Dublin, where you’ll be making at least twice the tips and have the support of a man who’s been nothing short of an angel to me. He’d be the same for you. It could be the sort of partnership your life’s been lacking.”
Kiera noted with some amusement that Moira hadn’t suggested romance, a word her daughter knew well would have sent Kiera fleeing in the opposite direction.
“He has his own children to step in and help with the running of the pub,” Kiera had protested, even though much of what her daughter said made sense.
The prospect of starting over, though, was a scary business. As harsh and difficult as her life had been, it was a niche in which she felt comfortable. With children to support on her own, she’d stopped taking chances. Moira was exactly right about that. She’d put her family first. Wasn’t that what a mother was meant to do? The thought of taking a daring risk now was beyond terrifying and yet, perhaps, just a little intriguing.
“His sons have little interest in the pub, much to Peter’s dismay,” Moira said. “There will be room for you. Peter will welcome the help and the company. If you ask me, he’s been a wee bit lonely since his wife’s passing.”
Persuaded at last—or perhaps simply worn down—Kiera had made the move, but only after telling Peter very, very firmly that he was not to be having expectations of a personal nature where she was concerned. He’d agreed to her terms, but there’d been a smile on his lips and a spark in his blue eyes that she probably shouldn’t have ignored.
And there he’d been, day in and day out for the better part of two years, always with a quick-witted comment that made her laugh or a gesture that softened her heart. And his patience truly had been a revelation to her. He’d done not one single thing to make her feel rushed, to make her put up her well-honed guard. Nor was he one to overindulge in Guinness, a habit that would have sent Kiera running even faster after living with Sean’s uncontrolled bouts of drinking and subsequent abusive talk.
And so, eventually, one by one, her defenses fell. She found herself looking forward to their late-night talks after the pub closed, to his interest
in her opinions. Maybe most of all, she’d basked in his kind and steady company that made her feel secure as she hadn’t since the very earliest days of her marriage to Sean Malone. She’d last felt that way before Sean’s drinking had started, before he’d walked out the door of their home for the very last time, leaving her with two sons who were not yet ready to start school and a daughter just home from the hospital.
Because she’d made such a show of rebellion in marrying Sean in the first place, Kiera hadn’t allowed herself to go running home to her parents back then. Instead, she’d struggled to make do, surviving on her own, if barely. It was only when her mum lay dying that she’d reconciled with her parents and eventually allowed them back into her life and the lives of her children. Her sons and daughter hadn’t even been aware that they had grandparents who might dote on them if given the chance.
Now with all three of her children grown and finding their own paths—albeit in the case of her sons, a path she wouldn’t have chosen, the same one their dad had taken—Kiera had been at loose ends when she made the move back to Dublin. She’d perhaps been more vulnerable than she’d allowed herself to be in years.
She couldn’t claim that Peter had taken unfair advantage of that. He’d been too fine a man to do so, but the fact was, she’d finally been ready to reach for a little happiness. Peter had offered the promise of that and more. And exactly as Moira had predicted, his sons were happy enough to have her in their father’s life and working by his side at the pub. The future looked bright with the sort of promise of love and stability she’d once dreamed of, but never imagined truly finding.
And, then, on the very day she’d said yes, when she’d opened her heart and allowed Peter to put a ring on her finger, a ring he’d claimed he’d been holding on to for years for just such a glorious day, he’d betrayed her as surely as Sean Malone ever had. He’d suffered a fatal heart attack just hours later, and once again, Kiera was alone and adrift. Abandoned.