The Harp and the Fiddle: Glenncailty Castle, Book 1

by Lila Dubois

  “All right.”

  “I have to go.” Tim held her tight for a moment, then turned for the hotel room door.

  “Tim.” Caera grabbed her shirt off the floor and held it over her breasts so she wouldn’t be so vulnerable as she said this. “Tá mé i ngrá leat.”

  “You know, it’s not fair using a language I don’t know.”

  Caera shrugged but smiled. She loved him, and she’d told him so. Even if he didn’t understand, at least she’d had the courage to say it. Maybe someday she’d say it in English.

  “Goodbye, Caera. Oh, and ditto what you just said.”

  Tim slipped out of the room, leaving Caera to drop down onto the bed, wondering what, if anything, Tim did understand…or feel.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Hope

  It was coming on suppertime. They’d be sitting at the table in the kitchen, listening to the radio before moving to the little TV room to watch the news and their shows.

  Caera’s fingers were white around the steering wheel as she looked at her childhood home. She couldn’t pinpoint when she’d made the decision to come see her family before leaving the west, but she had. Now that she was here, she couldn’t bring herself to get out of the car.

  She inched down the long drive, and the separate garage came into the view. There was a car there, an SUV she didn’t recognize. She stopped, prepared to use the excuse that they had company and she shouldn’t interrupt, when she realized it had to be her sister’s car. Her sister was married with children and lived not far from here. They’d been close once, but Caera’s leaving marked the end of that.

  “What are you doing?” Caera asked herself aloud. “You can’t just sit here.”

  Steeling herself, Caera drove up to the house, parking behind her sister’s car.

  Grabbing the flowers and box of Quality Street sweets she’d picked up in Galway, she got out of the car and went around to the kitchen door.

  She shouldn’t have to knock on the door, she should just go right in. They were her family. But this place was no longer home, as much as she might want it to be.

  She knocked.

  Her father answered the door, his puzzled expression melting to shock.

  “Caera!”

  “Hello, Da.”

  He grabbed her in a hug. He smelled like earth and wood shavings, a smell uniquely his own and so dear to her that tears stung her eyes. As quickly as he’d grabbed her, he let go, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t expect you.”

  “I was in Galway.”

  “Come in and tell us. Your mother will want to see you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Caera followed her father through the dusty back hall with its collection of work wear and muddy shoes, into the warm kitchen.

  Her mother stood from the table, her mouth open in surprise. She came forward, ready to embrace Caera, but stopped short. Caera knew how much she resembled her mother, but seeing her in person reminded her anew. They had the same dark hair, though her mother’s was cut short and was no longer naturally dark, but dyed to cover the gray. Their eyes were the same, as was the tentative smile that tugged on the corners of her mother’s mouth.

  “Caera, you’re home.”

  Home? No. She’d never really come home.

  “Mama, it’s good to see you.”

  “Caera.” Her sister Aisling was seated at the table, her youngest child asleep in her lap.

  “Aisling, I’m happy to see you.”

  “Sit, sit. I’ll make you a cup,” Caera’s mother said as she took the flowers and sweets Caera held out. “What brings you to the west?”

  “I had work. An artist who played in my place was playing in Galway, so I brought him out.”

  “Well, that was kind of you,” her father said.

  “You should have called if you’ll be staying,” Aisling pointed out, jiggling the sleeping baby on her lap. A frown marred her sister’s face. Caera wanted to offer to hold him—she was sure that was little Matty—but she so rarely saw her niece and nephews she couldn’t be sure.

  “I won’t stay,” Caera assured her.

  “Aisling,” her mother reprimanded, “don’t be rude to your sister.” She set a cup of tea down in front of Caera. It was warm and milky, with a touch of sugar, just the way Caera liked it. She took a sip, hoping it would melt away the tears that were lodged at the back of her throat.

  “No, Mama, it’s fine. I just wanted to say hello.”

  For one wild moment, she thought about telling them she’d met a man, that she was going to be in a relationship like a normal girl. That she’d met someone who cared about her and who thought her music was brilliant and who she knew, deep in her soul, would never betray her or hurt her.

  But her bad choices around love and men had hurt them all, and she feared telling them anything about her love life would only make her mother worry.

  “How are the boys?” she asked.

  Her mother updated her on her brothers, showed her a picture of the girl her oldest brother was seeing seriously. Her father told her about the latest jobs he was working on. As a carpenter, he specialized in custom furniture and cabinets. She’d worried about her parents in this economy, but so far the loss to her father’s business hadn’t been enough to trouble them.

  “I should go,” Caera said after an hour. “I have a long drive.”

  “Are you sure you won’t stay?” her father said.

  “She’ll be fine,” Aisling told her parents.

  Caera sighed. At least her sister never hid her feelings.

  Caera thanked them and let her mother hand her a travel mug of tea, as well as a few slices of homemade bread in a bag. Her father walked her to her car, kissed her cheek as she got in.

  “Come back again—your mother and I love to see you.”

  “Thanks, Da.”

  Caera was in the middle of turning around in the drive so she wouldn’t have to back all the way down when she saw her sister come running out of the house. She rolled down her window.

  “Aisling, are you all right?”

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Fine.” Caera put the car in neutral.

  “You need to stop being so selfish.”

  Her sister’s words shocked her. “What?”

  “You’re killing them, and you don’t even seem to care.”

  “I do care! I know how much I hurt everyone, that’s why I stay away. And you certainly make it known that I’m not wanted here.”

  “You don’t understand anything.”

  “Aisling, I do. I know why you’re angry with me, and you have every right to be. I did something stupid, and Mama and Da made you pay for it. I know they were strict with you, and that wasn’t fair, because I was the one who was stupid.”

  Caera had heard from her brothers that after she disappeared, her parents had become hyper-protective of Aisling. She’d never been allowed to go out on her own, had been made to volunteer on pilgrimages and at church functions, and when it was time to go to university, she’d lived at home and commuted to Galway, because the idea of her living on her own had upset her parents too much. All that was a direct result of Caera’s poor choices.

  “This isn’t about me, and it isn’t about what happened before. It’s about now. Why are you still punishing them?”

  “What are you talking about? I’m not punishing anyone.”

  “You’re not? Why else would you stay away, never call? You broke their hearts, and you keep doing it over and over.”

  “I stay away because I’m not wanted here, because when I came back I could see how disappointed they were, how hurt by my stupidity.”

  “You’re right, they’re hurt, but do you really know why, Caera?”

  In the dusky light, Aisling looked like a younger, thicker version of herself, and Caera was overcome by a sense of déjà vu, but this wasn’t her younger self—it was a person much smarter than she’d ever be.

  “They don�
��t care that you ran off with some stupid rock musician. They care that you suffered, that you were hurting, and you didn’t let them help you. I was here, I remember how they looked for you. For a year you were gone and we had no idea where you were, then finally a few phone calls and you made it sound like you were all right. Then you show up years later and say next to nothing but that he’d lied to you and you’d left him and worked your way home.

  “They’re hurt because you didn’t ask for help. With one phone call, Da would have gone to get you and brought you home. He would have gone to the North Pole—or Hell itself—if you’d told him you wanted to come home.”

  Caera wasn’t aware she was crying until a breeze came in the open window, cooling the wet tracks on her cheeks.

  “I couldn’t, Aisling. I couldn’t. I’d been so stupid, I was so…broken…then. I couldn’t bear to let them see me.”

  Her sister wrenched open the door and threw her arms around Caera.

  Caera burring her face in her sister’s hair and let out a little sob.

  “I knew you were punishing yourself, I knew it, but Mama and Da think you’re angry with them. What else can they think when even now, all these years later, you still stay away?”

  “No, no, not that, never that,” Caera sobbed. “I didn’t want to hurt them more, I wanted to protect them, from me.”

  “Caera.” Aisling took her face in her hands. “They’re your parents, our parents. I can honestly tell you that no matter what stupid things my children did, nothing could make me love them less or want them to stay away.”

  Caera hiccupped out a sound that was half laugh, half sob. “I’ve been…”

  “…incredibly stupid.”

  “Well, what’s a sister for, if not to tell you your own faults.”

  “Exactly. Now come inside. You’ll stay the night.”

  “You’re the one who wanted me to go.”

  “That’s before I realize how stupid you were.”

  “Silver-tongued as always.”

  “Here, let me help you with your stuff.” Aisling grabbed her bag and Tim’s borrowed guitar, which Caera was returning, from the backseat. She studied the guitar for a moment. “Do you ever play?”

  Caera hadn’t played or sung with or for her family since she’d left. For years she hadn’t so much as joined in a session at a pub, and until Tim, even that had seemed like too much.

  “I have been. I played, on stage, in Miltown Malbay.”

  “What’s this now? Well, why didn’t you tell us that story? I’m glad to know you’ve come to your senses and are going to make a go of music again.”

  Caera followed her sister back to the house. “I’m not making a go of anything. I played with the musician I brought to Galway.”

  “A man, is it?” Her sister eyed her.

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t make me beat it out of you with this guitar.”

  “He’s my boyfriend.” She savored the unfamiliar word.

  “Boyfriend?”

  “He’s American.”

  “And a musician. Jaysus protect us. Another foreign musician.”

  “I know, I know! That’s why I won’t tell them.” Caera gestured towards the kitchen door. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “Oh no, no more secrets. You’ll tell us everything.”

  “I don’t want you to worry…”

  “They already worry, give them something real to worry about. Now, in, and it’s time now to have a real conversation.”

  Aisling pushed her back into the kitchen. Caera thought about shoving her sister out of the way and making a run for it, but Aisling had put on weight after the babies and probably outweighed her by two stone.

  “Ma! Da! Caera’s back. She’s dating an American musician and has started playing again.”

  Her parents looked up from their seats. Her mother made the sign of the cross, and her father sighed.

  “No, Aisling, this is a mistake, I don’t want to worry them,” Caera hissed.

  “Caera nic an Cassadigh, tar iteach anois agus inis dom cad a bhfuil tu ag deanamh.” Her mother’s voice was laced with steel, and she’d reverted to her first language of Irish. Caera, daughter of the Cassidy, come in here and tell me what you are doing.

  Aisling and Caera both sat.

  “I’ll have no repeat of the foolishness. Tell me about this young man, and then we’ll hear you play.”

  “I’ll call the boys,” her father said, reaching for the phone on the wall.

  “We don’t have to do this by committee,” Caera said.

  “Ah, you’ve been away too long.” Aisling told her. “This is a family matter, so the family will hear of it.”

  “Drink your tea.” Her mother set a fresh cup down before her with a snap. “And tell me about your young man. Are you moving to America? What’s his name? What do you know of his people?”

  “I’m not moving anywhere—we just started dating. He’s a famous American traditional musician.”

  “Traditional music, you say?” The room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. “Well, then. And where does he live?”

  “Boston.”

  “In the U.S. Well, then how are you going to spend time together?”

  “We’ll talk on the computer.”

  Her parents harrumphed at that.

  “I can show you, there’s video of him playing on the Internet.”

  Caera pulled out her phone and drew up Tim’s YouTube page. She selected the video of him singing “Shenandoah” and playing the guitar.

  “Very nice, very nice,” her mother said. “And when will we be meeting him?”

  “Uh, I mean, we just started dating.”

  “The next time he’s in town, you’ll bring him by.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  Her father rose from his chair and came over to give her a hug. “I’m off to the parish meeting. You’ll be here when I come home?”

  “Yes, Da.”

  “I missed you, my girl.”

  Caera returned the hug, pressing her head into her father’s shoulder. “I missed you too.”

  Caera had to look down and blink away tears after her father left.

  “Have you had anything to eat?” her mother asked, voice soft.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Ah sure, you’ll have a bit. We’d just finished supper when you arrived.”

  Caera knew better than to continue protesting. “Thank you.”

  There was a cry from down the hall, and Aisling jumped up. When she came back, she was carrying the baby and a little girl clung to her leg, rubbing sleepy eyes.

  “Hello, pretty girl,” Caera said to her niece. “Do you remember me, Lizzy?”

  Lizzy scooted further behind Aisling’s leg.

  “This is your Aunty Caera. She gave you Miss Molly.” Aisling stroked her daughter’s head, and Caera’s heart clenched. “Miss Molly is the name of that doll you sent for Christmas last year.”

  Caera nodded, then tipped her head to catch her niece’s eye. “I’m glad you liked the doll. Molly is a good name for her.”

  Lizzy nodded slowly.

  “Can I meet Molly?”

  Lizzy scampered away. When she came back, she was trailed by her older brother Brian, who was named for his uncle, Caera’s older brother.

  “This is Miss Molly,” Lizzy said. She held out a pretty doll with red hair and bright blue eyes. Caera remembered seeing it in a store and wanting the niece she barely knew to have this childhood companion.

  Caera took the doll’s plastic hand in her own and shook it. “It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Molly.”

  “Who are you?” Brian’s question was blunt, in a way only children could get away with.

  “Brian, be polite.”

  “It’s a fair question,” Caera said as Lizzy wandered over to climb in her grandma’s lap. “I’m Caera, your mother’s sister. I’m your aunt.”

  “Oh. I knew that.” Brian puffed up his chest in a wa
y that reminded Caera of his namesake. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  The formal words were terribly cute coming out of the young, sleepy boy. Caera bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a smile. “It’s very nice to see you again.”

  “Mama, is there bread?”

  “Is that how we ask?”

  “Mama, could I please have bread?”

  Easy as that, the arrival of the prodigal daughter was pushed aside. Aisling handed Caera the baby, who fussed unless Caera bounced him.

  “Daughter mine,” Caera’s mother said, smiling even as she entertained Lizzy. “Tell me about you, your life.”

  Under the cover of the children’s cries and conversation, Caera talked to her mother, the words halting at first, but coming faster. Caera was surprised at how many good things she had to talk about, how much joy there had been in her life.

  Her brothers arrived an hour later, having been called home to see their erstwhile sister. Caera braced herself for it to be awkward, but there was only joy and celebration. Her mother seemed to revel at having a kitchen full of family, while her father looked pained at the noise level he found when he returned from the parish meeting. When it got to be too much for the small kitchen table, her mother shooed them all out.

  “Into the front room with you all and we’ll have a proper family session, the way we used to.”

  As she and her siblings piled into the formal front room, which held the piano, Caera marveled that in the last two hours she’d spent more quality time with her family than she had in the last year.

  Aisling handed her a guitar, then took a seat at the piano.

  Her mother settled into a stiff-backed formal chair, while her father rooted through a cabinet for the tin whistle he kept swearing was in there.

  She was with her family, doing something that used to be a ritual in this house—the evening session—and when she’d told them about Tim, despite all the similarities to her past, no one had told her she was a fool or washed their hands of her.

  “Mama,” Caera said, smiling, “what would you like to hear?”

  “Play ‘The Galway Girl’, my blue-eyed daughter.”

  Caera smiled as Brian, who was sitting next to her, gave her a half hug. “The Galway Girl” had always been a favorite, for it told the story of a man falling in love with a black-haired, blue-eyed girl from Galway.