Hearts in Ireland
Page 13
That was where I hesitated, hoping he would be receptive to what I said.
“I saw you, and I knew that my hope of escaping from reality in coming here was over. If Ireland had half my heart when I arrived, you took the other half.”
“Why are yeh tellin’ me this now?” Fergal asked, words sounding tight, as if he had something caught in his throat. “What’s the point? Aren’t yeh goin’ back to America?”
I nodded. “Tuesday.” The expression on Fergal’s face was so distraught that I rushed to tell him the rest, to clear that look from his face. “But I’ll be back the first weekend in July.”
The distress shifted to confusion. “Huh? Oi don’t understand.”
I chuckled a bit. “Here’s the whole reason I had Hannah bring me out to Pride to talk to you. I’m coming back. Like I said before, I never felt rooted in Atlanta, but I do here. I’ll be helping Aunt Gwendolyn in the shop after Hannah moves to London. And, if everything goes well, I’ll be attending Trinity College to get my Master’s in Education in the fall.”
Fergal gaped at me for a second before he suddenly took me into his arms and crushed my body against his in a bear hug. I did not hesitate to wrap my arms around him, squeezing him almost as tightly as he squeezed me.
With his face still buried in my neck, Fergal muttered something. I pulled back enough to look into his eyes. “What? I didn’t catch that.”
“Oi said, does that mean what Oi think it means?”
“I guess it depends on what you think it means.”
He squeezed me so tight, my breath escaped in a loud oof. “Don’t tease me, Ronan!”
“Okay, okay, sorry.”
He loosened his grip from around me, and I relaxed, leaning back more to look up into his eyes.
“One thing it means is that we’re going to be working together at the shop.”
“Go on.”
“It also means, if you’re willing to give it a try, I’d like to… see what comes of us.”
Fergal furrowed his brow. “Can’t yeh say anythin’ plainly today?”
I punched him in the shoulder playfully. “You know what I mean! Now who’s teasing?”
He gave me a wily grin. “Sorry.” He sounded anything but apologetic. “Yes, Oi know what yeh mean. And Oi’d like that too.”
“Really?”
Fergal laughed at the relief on my face before tilting my head back and capturing my mouth in a kiss. A few of his friends on the balcony patio let out catcalls, but with Fergal’s lips against mine, they might as well have been a thousand miles away. Nothing else mattered.
Caibidil 20
RETURNING HOME from Ireland was difficult. The whole family, along with Fergal, saw me off, and the good-byes were tearful—especially with Fergal. I was still happy for my time at home, which I spent subletting my apartment and making sure I had everything I needed taken care of. I spent every spare moment with my dad, hoping and praying that he would be able to look after himself once I was gone.
On the day before I left for Ireland once more, I paid a visit to the cemetery where Mom was buried. Dad offered to go with me, but I decided I’d rather go alone. I walked amongst the finely manicured grass and up the gentle slope of a hill to the spot where she was buried. I didn’t recognize the place, my memory of her burial a haze of pain and gray. It looked so different on a sunny July afternoon; it was beautiful, which was how Mom would have wanted it.
I sat on the ground, cross-legged, next to her gravestone and caressed the marble gently, as if it were her cheek.
“Hey, Mom, you probably already know this, but I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m going back to Ireland. You always wanted me to go there. It was one of the last things you ever said to me. I did—I did, and it was amazing. It changed my life, as I’m sure you knew it would.” I plucked a blade of grass and spun it between my thumb and index finger.
“I fell in love—and not just with the country. His name is Fergal, and he’s amazing. Dad hasn’t met him yet, but he’s planning on coming to Ireland in September and will meet him then. Needless to say, Fergal’s terrified.” I chuckled, tossing the blade of grass away. “I miss you so much, Mom. I think about you every day, but I know you’d want me to move on with my life, so that’s what I’m going to do.” I pushed myself to my feet.
“I’m not going to say good-bye because I know how much you loved home, and I know that you’ll be right there with me. Just make sure to spend a little time with Dad too.”
I hurried away from her grave, then, a few tears flowing down my cheeks.
THOUGH I still hated flying, this time around, knowing I was going home—it didn’t feel strange at all to think of Ireland that way, much to my surprise—made it easier to endure, as did the phone call I got from Dad right before I boarded the plane in Newark for the second leg of the flight.
I spent the last few hours in the air watching the map on the screen built into the seat in front of me, seeing the distance close slowly, anticipating finally being off the airplane and back in Ireland.
The path through customs and immigration seemed to take forever, but finally I emerged from the doors into the main hub of the airport. I was expecting to be greeted by a group of people, and instead it was only Fergal, standing there with a bouquet of flowers and a big smile on his face.
I ran to him as fast as I could manage while dragging two massive suitcases, a backpack, and a duffel bag behind me. Our embrace lasted far too short a time for my taste, but we were standing in the middle of an airport, no doubt blocking foot traffic somehow, and I didn’t want to just embrace, and the other ideas I had couldn’t be done in the middle of a public space.
“Are you the only member of my welcoming party today?” I asked, clearing my throat and hoping my desires weren’t too obvious on my face. Based on the hooded look Fergal gave me, he was thinking the same sorts of thoughts at that moment.
“Oi asked the others if they’d let me come get yeh,” he confessed. “Oi wanted as much alone time as Oi could get before deliverin’ you to be surrounded by the Murphys fer the night.”
“Well, I guess you’ll have to be the first to find out,” I said, unable to contain my excitement. “Dad called when I was in Newark—my acceptance letter to Trinity College came! I’m officially enrolled for fall classes!”
“That’s great!” Fergal pulled me close once more, kissing me lightly. “Oi’m really happy to hear that! Oh, and these are fer yeh.” He presented me with the bouquet. “Now, let’s get yeh to Gwendolyn’s place.”
Fergal grabbed the heavier suitcase from me, as well as the duffel bag, and started out towards the parking garage. His familiar F-250 was sitting out there, seeming to occupy multiple parking spaces. We loaded my bags into the back—I kept my backpack with me, because it had my laptop in it—and climbed into the truck.
When we had the doors closed, Fergal leaned forward to capture my lips in a deeper, much less chaste kiss than before. His tongue teased and danced around mine before he pulled back to nibble on my lower lip.
“One more thing,” he said, eyes meeting mine. “Welcome home.”
More from J. C. Long
Tate O’Connor has worked hard to realize his dream of dancing on Broadway, and it’s about to pay off with a premier in his first show. He doesn’t expect the distraction of sharing the stage with his celebrity crush: Broadway superstar Mike Chang. Drama ensues both onstage and off as Tate and Mike work closely and realize there could be something between them. However, there are those who don’t think an up-and-coming dancer is good enough for someone with Mike’s talent and fame, and rumors and misunderstandings might lead to broken hearts if Tate and Mike can’t work through their confusion and insecurity.
J. C. LONG is an American expat living in Japan, though he’s also lived stints in Seoul, South Korea—no, he’s not an Army brat; he’s an English teacher. He is also quite passionate about Welsh corgis and is convinced that anyone who does not like them is evil incarnate. His d
ramatic streak comes from his lifelong involvement in theater. After living in several countries aside from the United States, J. C. is convinced that love is love, no matter where you are, and is determined to write stories that demonstrate exactly that. J. C.’s favorite things in the world are pictures of corgis, writing, and Korean food (not in that order… okay, in that order). J. C. spends his time not writing thinking about writing, coming up with new characters, attending Big Bang concerts, and wishing he were writing. The best way to get him to write faster is to motivate him with corgi pictures. Yes, that is a veiled hint.
Website: www.jclong.org
Twitter: @j_c_long_author
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E-mail: jclongauthor@gmail.com
By J. C. Long
Broadway Babe
Hearts in Ireland
One Pulse (Dreamspinner Anthology)
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
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Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Hearts in Ireland
© 2017 J. C. Long.
Cover Art
© 2017 Valerie Tibbs | Tibbs Design.
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.
Digital ISBN: 978-1-63533-450-0
Published May 2017
v. 1.0
Printed in the United States of America