by Mary Carter
“Go on with ye,” Anchor said.
“Who was Carlene with, hanging all over, like, at the opening night of the Galway Races?”
Sally jumped off her perch and made a beeline for Collin. She leaned over the bar so that his face was only a half an inch from her cleavage.
“What’s that now?” she said.
“Collin,” Carlene said. “Very funny. You know what? Both teams are winners. Drinks are on me,” she said.
“I want to hear this,” Anchor said. The rest of the lads me too-ed. Collin was all smiles. He wasn’t wearing one of his usual T-shirts today. He had on a white pin-striped dress shirt. His hair was stiff with gel.
“Who was she drooling all over?” Sally asked. “You’ve opened yer gob, now ye have to tell us.”
“Nobody,” Carlene said. “Collin’s just taking a piss.”
Eoin laughed and pounded on the bar. “Taking the piss,” he corrected. “Not taking a piss.”
“Whatever. Case closed. Do you guys want free drinks or not?” In the end, free drinks won out over Sally’s cleavage.
“One mighty wind,” Riley said. “And they’d be showing their sticks and pouches to the wind.”
“Sticks and pouches!” Danny said. “We missed those ones.”
“Collin?” Carlene said. “I’ve got that thing on the back porch you wanted. Do you want to come get it now?”
“What thing are ye on about?” Sally asked. “I’ll get it for ye.”
“Not necessary,” Carlene said. As she led the way to the back porch, she could have sworn Collin had a definite bounce to his step as he followed. When they reached the enclosure, she immediately dropped all pretenses. Collin’s grin seemed to be a permanent feature of his face today. He pulled out his iPhone, thumbed through it, and turned the screen toward her. There was a picture of Carlene and Ronan at the races, locked in a kiss. Carlene quickly put her hand over the phone.
“It was nothing,” Carlene said. “Just the one time.” Ronan was already avoiding her, just out of paranoia of anyone finding out. What would happen if he knew Collin had a picture of them together? He’d probably disappear from her life altogether.
“So you’re not dating him?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Collin kept smiling. “And I wouldn’t want anyone to think we were,” Carlene said. “You can understand that, right?”
“Absolutely,” Collin said.
“Good,” Carlene said.
“So you’re not dating him.”
“I told you, no.”
“So you’re free to go out to dinner with me Saturday night,” Collin said. So there it was. It all clicked into place—how he was dressed, the grin, the gel, the bounce in his step. It was all part of his grand plan to seduce and blackmail.
“I have to work Saturday night,” Carlene said.
“I’ll fill in for ye,” Sally said. She was in the doorway, listening. How long had she been there? How much had she heard?
“Brilliant,” Collin said. “It’s settled, then.”
“But I like working Saturday nights,” Carlene said. As soon as she said it, she realized it was true. She loved the weekends. The pub was attracting more and more visitors. Single girls were starting to come in from Galway, along with middle-aged couples out for date night. Weekends were when the pool table was in use, the jukebox never stopped, and the drinks flowed. Carlene didn’t even mind cleaning up afterward; the routine helped her wind down before sinking into her little bed, her limbs weary from a hard day’s work, the noise of the evening buzzing softly in her head.
“Ah, so, you are involved with a certain someone, aren’t ye?” Collin said.
“Who?” Sally said. “Tell me.”
“Collin,” Carlene said. “I’m serious. I really, really like Saturday nights.”
“All right,” Collin said. “How does Tuesday night suit?” Sally was still staring. Collin was still grinning.
“Suits me just fine,” Sally said.
“Okay then,” Carlene said. “Tuesday it is.”
“It’s a date,” Collin said.
“It’s a date,” Sally said.
Carlene had never ventured into the souterrain this late at night. She dropped to the usual spot and turned on the flashlight. The passage was becoming a familiar friend. So far she had been able to crawl along it to the count of ten. Then she crawled backward to the count of ten. It was damp and the stones were hard on her knees, but she had no idea where in Ireland to buy knee pads without starting some kind of bizarre rumor, or ladies’ rugby team. Tonight, she would go to the count of twelve. The passage was so low her head grazed the roof as she crawled, sending dirt tumbling into her eyes. She made it to the count of twelve, then hesitated. She could go all the way.
No, she wasn’t ready tonight. She still wanted to tell someone else, have some kind of a backup plan in case something went wrong. Besides, she was starting to enjoy the anticipation of what waited at the end of the tunnel. It was distracting and exciting. At least that’s how she justified her inability to make it all the way.
Afterward, she stood in her shower and watched the dirt run down the drain. Did anyone else know about the secret space? The McBrides should be the first to know. If she wanted it, she had a good excuse to call Ronan.
And what was she going to do about her “date” with Collin? If only Sally hadn’t inserted herself into the mix, and Collin didn’t have that picture on his iPhone. Not that she wasn’t allowed to go on dates. It wasn’t like she and Ronan were an item. But it wasn’t Collin she thought of day and night, thoughts of him taking up all room in her head, heart rising every time the pub door opened, secretly praying that he would stroll through the door and sit at her bar.
CHAPTER 25
Mending Fences
Ronan thought about Miss America constantly. He wondered how she was really doing with the bar business. Although she seemed to be doing just fine, he knew there were ugly sides to every business, especially life in the pub. Seeing people go from normal to drunk, their eyes drooping, their words slurring, sometimes their sadness pouring out. Fights, passing out, the shakes and tremors, drinkers coming in the next day for the “cure,” which just meant starting the day drinking all over again. There would even be times when she would have to clean up vomit, or piss, or shit, and he hated the thought of her doing any of that. Although she seemed well equipped, the last time he saw her she was wearing these bright blue rubber gloves, and the place always had this just-scrubbed smell. Sally was opening her mouth about town too; apparently Carlene had gone to the hardware shop and stocked up on sanitizer, gloves, masks, and all sorts of industrial-strength cleaning products. If she was trying to scrub all the badness out of the bar, she was in for the long haul.
He’d been avoiding her ever since the night they almost made love. He wanted to, and he came so close, and he still wanted to—he thought of little else these days—but there was just too much to think about. He couldn’t jump into anything right now, and what kind of catch was he anyway? He was out of a job, except for a couple of bar shifts he’d picked up from Mickey John, but really, where was his life going? He was living with his mother again, and although he was well fed, he was too old to be living at home. And besides, wouldn’t there always be a doubt in her mind, maybe in everyone’s mind, maybe even in his mind, that he was just trying to worm his way back into the pub?
And then he’d gone and made a ridiculous bet with Racehorse Robbie. He was winning so far, but it was absolute torture. He’d been about to confess to Carlene what he was doing when she up and hired Sally. He didn’t need the drama. Sally was still gunning for the two of them, and even though he knew it was never going to happen, it seemed as if she was never going to give up. Carlene didn’t need any more enemies, which brought him to his next rumination, the one that occupied his mind after he was done thinking about making love to her, and that was all the vandalism and “pranks” somebody was playing on Carlene. He didn’t like it one bit, and he was furi
ous that someone would even try something like that.
He had to see her, and he finally came up with a good excuse. Which was why he was standing in front of the pub, poised to knock. It was still surreal, having to knock on the door of the pub he grew up in, and worked in, and lived in, but there it was, it was her pub now. She even had a new sign to prove it. The Half Tree. He knocked, and within seconds she opened the door. He tried not to stare. She was wearing jean shorts, a red negligee top, and blue rubber gloves. She had a rag in one hand and a bottle of Lysol in the other. Her long hair was piled on top of her head and held in place with a pencil. He wanted to kiss her.
“Good morning, Miss America.” Carlene stood aside to let him in. He stepped in and almost slipped. “Jaysus.”
“Sorry. I just mopped the floors.”
“I can see that.” He looked at her body, openly this time, he couldn’t help it. Gorgeous pink spots appeared on her cheeks and he forced himself to look away. “Do you always dress like a Victoria’s Secret model to wash the floor?”
“It’s laundry day. I’ve very little left.”
“Me father almost put a washer and dryer in here,” Ronan said. “He never got around to it. And then I was going to put one in, but I never got around to it either.”
“Oh well,” Carlene said. “Sometimes I wash things by hand and hang them on the line. Today would’ve been a good day.” They both took a moment and looked out the window.
“Ah, it’s a lovely day today,” Ronan said.
“Gorgeous,” Carlene said.
“Listen,” Ronan said. “I have some outdoor things to do today, and I was just wondering if you’d like to come with me.”
“Will I be back by five?” Carlene said.
“If you want. Otherwise I’ve talked to Declan and he’d be happy to fill in.”
“Oh,” Carlene said.
“I ran into him in town,” Ronan said.
“I see.” He tried not to look anxious as she mulled over his invitation. She put the Lysol on a nearby table and peeled off her gloves.
“I’ll get dressed,” she said.
“Wear something you can get dirty in,” Ronan said. She nodded and headed up the stairs. As opposed to what you’re wearing now, which makes me want to get dirty with you, he added silently as he watched her go.
Carlene had been there a few months and was still trying to get around without a car. Fair play to her, but it didn’t strike him as an environmental choice, which meant she was afraid to drive on the other side of the road. When Carlene opened the car door and sat down, Ronan asked her if she wanted to drive. She shook her head shyly at the invitation. “You might want to get into the passenger seat, then,” Ronan said. The look on her face was deadly. Then she saw the grin on his face and laughed.
She muttered something about never getting used to it as she got out of the driver’s seat and headed for the passenger seat. Ronan reminded himself to drive slower; she’d seemed terrified the night he drove her from Galway, always gripping the side of the door and air-braking. He accidentally brushed his left elbow against her breast as he reached for his seat belt, and he racked his brain for an excuse to get out of the car just so he could do it again.
She didn’t even ask where they were going, and he liked that about her. He liked a lot of things about her—too many things, if you asked him, and it was starting to annoy him. Did she think about him? Or was she just being friendly? Obviously, she was attracted to him, that much she’d proved with all the kissing and inviting him up to her bedroom like. But what did it mean? What did she really want from him?
“How’s the kitten?” he said. Ronan got the wee thing from a buddy of his who was threatening to drown it. He figured Carlene could use the company. Why he didn’t just offer it to her like a regular Joe Soap instead of sneaking it into the place, he wasn’t quite sure. When it came to Carlene, a lot of things made Ronan unsure.
“I’ve named her Columbus,” Carlene said.
“After the explorer or the great Buckeye State?” Ronan said.
“A bit of both,” Carlene said. There was a catch to her voice, as if there was more to the story, as if she was holding something back, but he didn’t ask any follow-up questions. He didn’t want to seem nosy, and if he started asking her questions, it might lead to her asking him questions, like where do you work now and where do you live and he didn’t want to say with my mammy and in someone else’s stinky bar.
They fell into silence as they drove. She looked out the window, and he hoped she saw how beautiful everything was on a sunny day. The richness of the grass, the little bursts of color from hay at the side of the road, how inviting the farmhouses looked in the sun. They were coming up onto the church, where Ronan would take a left onto Keals’s property.
“Are you taking me to confession?” Carlene asked.
“That depends,” Ronan said. “Do you have anything to confess?” It was meant to be a joke, but when he caught her eye and they stared at each other, there was definite voltage going on between them. He pulled up Paul’s driveway and forced himself to look away from her gorgeous blue eyes. As promised, Anchor was parked halfway up the drive, waiting for him. His red pickup was piled with the wood Ronan would need. Carlene and Anchor hugged while Ronan started removing the wood from the back of the truck. Obviously, the two were good friends now, he thought. Was he actually getting jealous? She was Anchor’s bartender, of course he loved her.
“What’s all this for?” Carlene asked.
“Ever build a fence?” Ronan said.
“No.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” He winked at Carlene. Anchor grinned. “You sure he’s not home?” Ronan asked Anchor.
“They’ll be gone until half three,” Anchor said.
“Ah, brilliant,” Ronan said. After the wood was all lying neatly on the ground, Anchor saluted them both and screeched away, leaving behind a cloud of dust.
With Carlene around, it was easy to build the fence. Ronan was repairing a section about ten feet long. He simply asked Carlene to hold the wood in place while he did all the sawing and nailing. He pretended not to look at her, but secretly watched her out of his peripheral vision. He watched her take in the property, the church next door, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she was doing an awful lot of looking at him.
“Whose property is this?” she asked.
“An old-timer name of Paul Keals,” Ronan said.
“This is so nice of you,” she said.
“No, it’s not,” Ronan said. “I’m the one who busted this fence years ago.”
“Running away from church?” Carlene guessed.
“My idea of religious freedom,” Ronan said. Carlene laughed long and hard. A guy could get used to that laugh. Suddenly, they heard a quivering moo directly behind them. Carlene turned and was nose-to-nose with the old drama queen of a cow.
“Whatever you do,” Ronan said, “don’t smack her on the arse.”
They worked side by side for a little over an hour. By the time they were done, they had both worked up a sweat. Before they reached the car, Ronan grabbed her hand, pulled her into him, and kissed her. She wrapped her hands around his back. He hoped she didn’t find him too sweaty, but she must not have minded, for they smooched for a long time.
“Thank you,” Ronan said. “I knew it would be easier to do this with you,” he said.
“What?” she said. “Kissing?”
“Funny. I was talking about the fence. But I reckon kissing is easier done with you too,” he said. They got into the car and he gestured to a cooler on the backseat. “Lunch,” Ronan said. “As soon as we get to my secret spot.” He drove to the park beside the abbey, and they walked silently toward the river. He set the cooler down and looked at the grass. He should have brought a blanket. But Carlene had already sat down, without a single complaint. He took out the ham-and-cheese sandwiches, which he did not plan on telling her had actually been made by his mother.
�
��This is delicious,” Carlene said. Ronan leaned over and licked a spot of mayonnaise off her bottom lip. She shivered. That was too much for him to take. The next thing he knew, he was all over her, which might have been romantic except for the ham-and-cheese sandwich in her hand. By the time he pulled off her, it was smashed to her chest. He thought she was going to have a fit; instead, she was laughing. She pulled the smooshed sandwich off her breasts. He offered to trade, but she had already taken another big bite out of it. So much for Sally saying she was some kind of neat freak. You couldn’t call a girl who would eat a ham-and-cheese sandwich off her shirt anything but beautifully easygoing.
“I don’t know what we’re doing,” she said out of nowhere just as he was about to tell her that she was the perfect woman.
“We’re eating ham-and-cheese sandwiches,” Ronan said.
“I really don’t know anything about you.” Here it comes, he thought.
“Ask me anything,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t.
“Where do you live?”
“I’m back at the house for now,” he said. “Just until I figure out where to plant myself next.”
“Do you miss the pub?” she asked.
“Like my right arm,” he said. There it was again, that blush. Maybe that did sound kind of dirty—was she thinking that’s what he meant?
“Do you have another job now?” What she really meant was, are you still gambling—he could see it in her eyes.
“I have a couple of things here and there,” Ronan said.
“Like what?”
“Are there going to be a lot of these, because I’d rather answer them in the river.”
“You want to swim?” she said. “Here?”
“Why not?”
“For one thing, I don’t have a suit.”
“Don’t need one.”
“For another thing, I’ll bet it’s freezing.”
“Want to place a wager?” He waited for a lecture. Instead, she smiled.
“How much?”
