An Irish Christmas Blessing

by Roxanne Rustand

  "The one thing I hated to hear after my Dad died was 'time heals all wounds.' It seemed callous, it seemed perfunctory, and it seemed like a throw-away line that people recited yet it didn't mean anything." He shook his head slowly, probably remembering those dark days. "But the odd thing was that all those people were right. It does take a lot of time. And prayer, and the strong support of family and friends. The first two years are really tough. But then, bit by bit, it will get better. I promise."

  "Except if you could've prevented it."

  "So you really think that's true?"

  "Of course it is—no matter what anyone said."

  "You deny the possibility that it was simply a tragic, unavoidable accident."

  "I—I should have been able to avoid it, yes."

  "Have you ever gone back to look at the intersection?"

  Startled, she shook her head. "I don't ever want to go back there."

  "Would you be willing to look at it via Google Earth?

  "Why? And bring back horrible memories?"

  "What if it could make them go away?"

  "I—" she sighed and let her shoulders slump in defeat. "Why are you doing this?"

  "Because..." he thought for a moment, searching for the right words. "Because you seem so wounded. And because you deserve to be happy."

  He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. Tapped the Google Earth App. "I Googled your name and followed a few rabbit trails to find the location of the accident. It wasn't that hard, as there were several newspaper reports online, plus the obituaries."

  She drew in a shaky breath. "What's the point of all this?"

  "It happened around dusk or a bit later, correct?"

  She nodded.

  "So...." he tapped the screen and eventually reached a view of the intersection. "The other driver was in an older pickup and didn't have his lights on yet. Your vehicle had the lights that are always on for greater safety—so the other driver should have been able to see you."

  "I guess."

  He zeroed in the intersection, then moved his fingertips on the screen to make the view pivot. "So what do you see?"

  "Trees and scrubby undergrowth on the northeast and northwest corners. Gold lines of something on the southeast and southwest."

  "This was late September, so those lines would be..."

  "Corn?"

  "Exactly. So we have tall crops, trees and underbrush obscuring the views in every direction. The other car was running without its headlights. What would be the chances that you could see the approach of a car from either side?" he slid his fingertips slightly and brought the view closer to street level. "And, according to the reports, the other driver was coming from the west, which has a definite slope down toward a creek about a quarter-mile back. So he was coming up a hill that hid his approach as well. Did no one ever tell you all of this?"

  "My dad said there was a formal report about the accident, but that the cover had a note saying there was graphic material inside. Photos. Descriptions. I was so devastated I never wanted to read it. I knew reading the details would be horrible. And photos?" She closed her eyes. "Never."

  "But now do you see? This collision was not your fault. The sightlines were poor for both of you. He didn't have lights. He was coming up to the intersection on a fairly steep incline and at a high rate of speed. So as sad as it was—and is—to lose a fiancé and your sister, you can't blame yourself. If anyone should take the blame it would be the other driver."

  "It's too late for that. He committed suicide a few weeks later. He'd been our minister's son, and was in my sister's graduating class." Eve rested a hand on Devlin's forearm. “Dad always said I wasn't at fault, but I never believed him. I thought he was just trying to make me feel better. So thank you for showing me this. It can’t change the grief, but I think it will help with the guilt.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The next two weeks passed in a blur of activity—busy days at the shop, and then outings with Devlin throughout Western Ireland—limited only by his bulky plaster cast and crutches—on Sundays and Mondays when the shop was closed.

  The latest snowfall had melted away and the temps were hovering in the balmy range, so they began taking Walter for long evening walks through the village to see the Christmas light displays on some of the houses. Sometimes they left Walter at home and went out for fish and chips at the local pubs, but mostly they stayed at the bookshop and had their meals there, while talking about cameras and travel and all things Irish.

  But never about the future...which loomed beyond January 28th. When Eve would have her final day at the shop, head for Dublin for a week, then fly back to the States.

  This morning Eve had taken him back to the orthopedist for removal of his cast and the fitting of a lighter, removable walking cast, and he'd received a stern warning about still using the crutches and not bearing weight on his fractured leg for at least four more weeks.

  Devlin immediately interpreted those orders as ditch the crutches, use a cane, and just be careful.

  "It's hard to believe Christmas is just seven days away," she murmured over a cup of cinnamon spice tea and Millionaire Caramel Bars when they got back from the hospital. "Where will you go—off to your grandma's house in Cork? Or your mother's house? I'm not even sure where that is."

  "I'm often too far away to even think about coming back for Christmas, which is fine with me." He gave a short laugh. "So it goes without saying that I'd rather spend the holiday right here. Gran and Mum don't get on well, so Shauna and I have always had to choose between their Christmas celebrations. Either place, there'll be a raucous houseful of relatives and friends. I don't think I'd even be missed."

  "I used to enjoy the holidays—-all the baking, the decorating..." Eve said with a wistful sigh. She finished the last bite of her chocolate, caramel and shortbread confection and eyed the other three bars left on the serving plate. "But since the accident everyone has been so overly solicitous—tiptoeing around me, taking care to not say the wrong thing. Darting worried glances at each other, apparently concerned that I might have a total meltdown. The tension is palpable. I don't think I was ever as fragile as they think, but at least I know they care."

  "You're more lucky than you realize. Some people would give anything to have family like that." He reached across the table and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "You'd be welcome to join my family, but we've got a Christmas tree and all the sparkly lights right here."

  "I wouldn't think of intruding on strangers, or keeping you from your family," Eve protested. "You should be with them. I'll be perfectly fine alone."

  "You'll be missing your loved ones, though."

  "Actually, I think I'm giving them a well-deserved break." She chuckled. "They'll probably be happy to relax this year without me there...and then maybe next year they'll be beyond all of that tippy-toeing around."

  He gave her a slow, heart-stopping grin that deepened the laughlines at the corners of his eyes. "So it's settled then. We'll skip the craziness with my relatives, and have a much more peaceful Christmas here. I know Walter and Maybelline will be thrilled."

  EVE UNLOCKED THE FRONT door of the bookshop and flipped the sign in the window to OPEN, then went to sit on the tall stool behind the front counter.

  The parrot and dog might be happy to be staying home for Christmas, but Eve wasn't so sure about herself.

  Two weeks ago she and Devlin had resolved to simply be friends. No long-term commitments, no expectations. And definitely, no hanky panky that either would regret.

  It had been a perfect plan.

  But with every passing day, her resolve had been melting. And how could it not? Just the sound of his lilting Irish voice and his dry wit made her smile. His wicked grin made her laugh. His intelligence and analytical approach to discussions on everything from the Middle East to the plight of the honeybees warmed her librarian's heart.

  And despite the pain and inconvenience of his fractures, he'd remained unrelentingly pleasan
t and positive, as helpful as he could manage. He was proving to be a great asset at the bookshop as well, where more and more customers had spread the word about his presence, and sent friends and relatives for autographed copies of his books. Eve had already needed to order four more cases of his books and now those were nearly gone. She knew all too well that, for a self-professed loner, none of this was easy.

  During a phone call last night, Shauna had shrieked with joy at the news and ordered Eve to give him a huge kiss for her.

  That was one favor Eve couldn't risk.

  Sure, he dropped his arm over her shoulder or around her waist when they were out walking. Just for stability, now that he only used a cane. Or maybe he held her hand...or gave her a random hug. Part and parcel of simple companionship and nothing beyond.

  But a kiss. That was something more.

  Something she knew all too well, because that kiss he'd given her after the strawberry shortcake had felt like burning embers of fireworks rocketing through her. It had tingled her toes and warmed her heart and made her long for much, much more, which she hadn't thought even possible after losing Josh. In fact, a traitorous thought had stubbornly wrapped itself around her heart and just wouldn't go away—had she ever felt that way with her fiancé? Not even close.

  Forgive me, she whispered, wishing Josh could hear her. I'm so, so sorry.

  Worse, she knew she was falling for man who couldn't be more wrong for her, but couldn't stop those feelings any more than she could stop the tide. And she suspected Devlin felt the same way. Would it be so wrong just to enjoy her last six weeks here? Let her emotions run free and bring some joy back into her life?

  The front door opened and a pair of customers ushered in a fresh burst of crisp, December air. All smiles, they approached the front desk. "Is this the place we can meet that author and buy his autographed books? They'd be such lovely gifts to send back to the States!"

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "SO, ARE WE READY FOR Christmas Eve?" Devlin limped around the store with his cane, turning off the stained glass lamps, checking the locks on the front door and the windows.

  Eve looked up from the cash register, where she was counting out the money and preparing the bank deposit. She grinned at him, her heart full. The last week had been the best of her life. They'd spent every evening in front of the fireplace upstairs, talking about traveling. What the future might bring.

  Could she even stay in Ireland? This had just been a visit, a favor for a dear friend without any salary. But if she were to stay, Eve imagined there would be all sorts of regulations to consider.

  Then again, Devlin had talked about coming to the States for an extended stay, to explore the Rockies and Pacific Northwest with his cameras. One way or another, there had to be a way they could pursue this relationship and see where it might lead.

  "I'm done," she called out. "I just need to take this down to the bank, then get started on dinner so it can all be cooking while we're at the Christmas Eve service."

  He withdrew his coat from the back closet. "I'll take the deposit to the bank, so you can go on upstairs." He dropped a swift kiss on her cheek and tucked the money bag under his arm. "This is one dinner I can't wait to enjoy. Your pies look totally amazing."

  After locking up behind him, she opened the door to the upstairs apartment and whistled for Walter, who raced down the steps and straight to the back door, where he danced with excitement until she caught up and let him out.

  She was halfway up the stairs when the phone rang behind her.

  "We're closed," she muttered under her breath. She hesitated, then relented and made it back to the front desk on the fourth ring. "Shamrocks and Shivers Antiquarian Bookshop."

  There was a short pause, then a silvery laugh. "You must be the American. When Dev told me that Shauna found a librarian to help her out, I thought it utterly charming."

  "Can I help you?"

  "Actually, I want Dev but he hasn't answered his phone today. I hope he's all right. No more little accidents?"

  The voice was clearly upper class British, the tone condescending. Eve gritted her teeth. "He isn't here right now."

  "Well, that's inconvenient. My plane is taking off and they're making me shut this phone off. Can you take a message?"

  Eve grabbed a pen and paper. "Go ahead."

  "This Lydia. Tell him...I'm sorry I missed his birthday last month. And I'm sorry I missed his call last night. I will definitely meet him at The Lanesborough Hotel on the fourth, as planned. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

  Writing down the message, Eve swallowed hard. "Got it."

  "Oh—and I'm on for Scotland in May. Tell him to decide on the dates, and I'll work on the arrangements. I'd like it to be even better than last year." She laughed softly, the satisfaction in her voice telegraphing just how good it had been.

  Eve stared at the notes long after the woman ended the call.

  How could she have been so naïve, so utterly stupid? One soul-searing kiss had made her forget every resolution she'd made, every bit of intelligence and perception she'd possessed before meeting Devlin. She'd let herself fall in love.

  And all the while, he'd had ongoing plans with a woman whose voice dripped diamonds and old money, and perhaps many other women as well.

  Stupid didn't even begin to cover how she felt. She'd be fleeing home on the next plane if not for her responsibilities and debt to Shauna.

  She would stay on until the day she could leave. Be nothing more than polite to Devlin. And then she would try to forget that she'd never even met the despicable man.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE MOMENT DEVLIN WALKED in the front door, Eve handed him the note. "This is from Lydia. She's been trying to call your cellphone regarding the plans you two have made. She wants you to call her back."

  He frowned at the note. "Something about Scotland...and Lanesbridge? Sorry—I can't quite make it out."

  Possibly because she'd been seething while she wrote it. She grabbed it back. "She can't wait to stay at the Lanesborough Hotel with you on the fourth." She shot a dark glance at him. "Said she 'wouldn't miss it for the world.' And she's quite excited over meeting you in Scotland in May. Said she would make the arrangements as she wanted it to be 'even better than last year.' Whatever that means. Better give her a call, because from the tone in her voice, she's been missing you a lot."

  Eve handed the note back with exquisite care. "I'm glad I had the chance to take her call for you. It was certainly informative."

  He stared down at the note then lifted his narrowed gaze to meet hers. "I guess I'm glad, too. Instead of explanations, you prefer assumptions. So be it."

  Tears burned her eyes as she turned away and headed to the back door, rather than to let him see them fall. "Walter! Here, boy."

  She waited. Listened. Then stepped outside.

  Walter was an inside dog to the core and invariably wanted to come back inside the minute he'd done his business. So where was he?

  She stepped back inside, grabbed her coat and a flashlight, then searched the back yard, calling his name. She found the answer at the far end of the yard, where pawprints in a fresh layer of snow stopped at a tear in the woven wired fence.

  She hunkered down to inspect the damage, then rocked back on her heels, her heart sinking. Why tonight—of all nights? He didn't even like the cold.

  Hurrying back to the house, she grabbed her set of keys and raced back outside, calling his name every few seconds as she ran. Shauna loved her dog. Asked about him during every phone call. How was Eve going to explain losing him?

  After covering the length of Main Street she started at one end of town and began painstakingly hiking down one narrow, twisty lane after another, praying he would suddenly appear. Had he been stolen? Dear God—had he been hit on the road, and was now laying in the snow? With his white, fluffy coat it would be so hard to see him.

  Down the dark lane behind her, she saw a man hobbling slowly after her, bent over a cane. Dev
lin. Could he have good news?

  She broke into a run, slipping and sliding in the soft layer of snow. "Did you find him? Is he at home?"

  Devlin shook his head. "I figured two people were better than one. Where have you been already, and where do you want me to go?"

  "I've been down Main, and through this end of town...but unless he's been stolen or hit, he's on the move. So he could be where I've already checked. Why don't you go east, I'll go west. Do you have your cell?"

  He nodded and turned away. Eve's heart hitched a beat as she watched him soldier slowly on. Slip, barely catch himself, then resolutely continue.

  She hurried on with own search, calling the dog's name and sweeping her flashlight beam through the gardens and alleys as she passed.

  Voices singing Christmas hymns floated out into the brisk, crystalline air as she passed the church she and Devlin had planned to attend tonight. How she'd looked forward to that—being in a community of believers celebrating the Lord's birth, candles flickering, the scents of pine filling the air.

  Humming Silent Night as she continued on, she took in the pretty strands of Christmas lights rimming the steep roofs of some of the houses. The glimpses of Christmas trees in parlor windows. Nostalgia for home, her family and all of their Christmas traditions hit her like a blow to the chest. I miss you all, she whispered, looking up at the diamond stars strewn across the black velvet sky.

  A flash of movement to the left caught her eye and she spun around, hoping to see Walter galloping towards her. But it was Devlin, awkwardly picking himself up, dusting himself off, then limping on.

  Her heart caught. While she'd been falling for him a little more each day, he'd had such secrets about his life. He had lied by omission. But she couldn't deny that he had a caring heart where other things—just not her—were concerned. With a sigh she walked down another lane, then the next. Where could that silly dog have gone?