by Eliza Watson
Why was Declan avoiding this guy?
Liam took a swig of whiskey.
I took a sip of ale.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a grand idea,” Liam told Peter, swirling the golden liquid in his glass.
“He’ll come around.” Peter’s tone was more hopeful than confident.
This wasn’t an accidental encounter. Had Peter snuck in a call to Liam when phoning in our bets? I slid my gaze to the empty hallway.
Liam raised a curious brow. “A coworker, are ya? I’d heard he’s a tour guide now.”
“Not really a tour guide.” I explained our job, giving it a glamorous slant. I also mentioned we were there thanks to Peter and Declan finding my rellie.
Declan returned. He slammed his whiskey and motioned to Peter for another. “So how are your mum and dad?” he asked Liam.
“Grand. You should call on them.”
Declan nodded faintly, focusing on the TV.
“You know, they didn’t just lose a daughter—they also lost a son. It was hard on them that ya didn’t come around. Hard on us all.”
Liam was Shauna’s brother?
Declan nodded in understanding. Yet he knocked back his third whiskey in one gulp, then stared into the empty glass.
Liam swirled his whiskey some more and polished it off. He placed money on the bar, picking up our tab. “They’re in the same house.” He gave Declan a pat on the back. “Take care, mate. Tell your family Happy Christmas.”
Declan nodded, still focusing on his glass rather than Liam. “You too.”
Liam told me good-bye and walked out.
I let out a whoosh of air, almost expelling my lungs from my chest. I wasn’t about to narc on Peter for calling Liam, because it was good for Declan to finally face him—and his past.
However, he’d successfully avoided both.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Feckin’ brilliant.” Declan slid off his barstool. “Let’s go.”
“Um, I’m not done with my drink.”
He polished off my nearly full pint in three gulps.
“You can’t drive,” I said.
He slipped his car keys from his jeans pocket and dangled them in front of me. “You’re right. Drunk-driving laws are fierce now.”
I stared at the keys, my heart racing. “I can’t drive.”
Declan driving while over the legal alcohol limit would be safer than me driving sober. However, I didn’t want him to risk losing his license. At least his family was at his aunt’s in Waterford, so our first introduction wasn’t me bringing home their drunken son.
My heart skipped a beat.
We’d be alone at Declan’s house.
“It’s just up the road. You probably won’t encounter another car the entire way.”
He’d once mentioned Killybog was almost a half hour from his parents. Far from just up the road. He dropped the keys on the bar in front of me. He shook Peter’s hand and left.
I reluctantly grabbed the keys and my coat. I thanked Peter again for his help and headed toward the door, car keys clutched in my hand, a sick feeling in my stomach. Not just because I was about to put our lives in danger, but I had the feeling Declan wasn’t going to discuss Liam. It hurt that he didn’t care to share his feelings. Visiting Killybog and our families’ homeland meant different things for us. Being here should provide him the perfect opportunity to come to grips with his past so that we could have a future. I didn’t expect him to spill his guts about Shauna, but if we were going to have a relationship, he at least had to be able to discuss her brother. And introduce me as a friend rather than a coworker.
Damnit. Declan was usually the responsible one taking control of a situation, making it all better, coming to my rescue.
What if I wasn’t able to rescue him?
Chapter Eight
Snow. Darkness. A drunken navigator. Driving on the opposite side of the road. Any other obstacles?
Declan stood leaning against the front of the pub, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, staring down at the snow-dusted sidewalk. We walked in silence for several blocks to Declan’s tiny silver car.
I eyed the vehicle. “It’s so small.”
“Better to have more room on the road than in the car.”
Unless I went off the road.
I clicked the doors unlocked. We both grabbed the cold metal door handle. Declan’s hand warmed my entire body. The first time he’d touched me since we’d arrived in Killybog. I leaned in to kiss him, to reassure him that everything would be okay. He snapped his hand back, startling me. I was finally emotionally ready to sleep with Declan, and now he wouldn’t even kiss me?
“Ah, wrong door.” He gestured to the steering wheel on the other side.
“Oh yeah.” I went over and slid onto the driver’s seat. I searched for the ignition, a bit flustered by Declan backing away from a kiss.
“Take a left,” he said.
“Let me turn on the car before you start giving me directions.”
He pressed a button by the steering wheel. Nothing. “Clutch in, is it?”
I pushed in the clutch, and the car hummed to life. Crap. I’d been praying it wouldn’t start. My repoed sports car had a manual transmission, but I was so nervous I couldn’t remember how to drive one. It didn’t help that the seat was on the opposite side, requiring me to use my left hand instead of my right to shift. It was like learning to write with the opposite hand. After I turned several switches and knobs, the lights and wipers came on.
“Just remember, your arse is on the line,” Declan said.
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“No, keep telling yourself that you’re sitting on the center, that your arse is on the line. So you’ll remember which side of the road to stay on.”
Good tip.
My arse is on the line. My arse is on the line…
I backed out and headed down the street, unable to believe I was driving on the opposite side of the road. My confidence diminished when I reached the edge of town and the shoulder disappeared into a farmer’s stone fence. No lines marked the narrow road’s center or sides. Even though the snow was melting as it hit the pavement, it was hard to judge where I was at on the road until several branches scraped the passenger door. Whatever eighty kilometers converted to in miles was way too fast for the winding road.
A car’s approaching headlights caused my grip to tighten on the steering wheel. My first instinct was to squeeze my eyes shut. Instead, I slowed to a crawl, hugging the side of the road, deciding it was better to hit a fence than a car. The car passed, and I heaved a relieved sigh. I rounded a corner and encountered an elderly man in a yellow reflective vest walking a small dog. I gasped, swerving into the other lane. He jumped onto a narrow strip of grass, taking his dog with him. Luckily, no car in the other lane.
Declan appeared unfazed by our near-death experience. Either he was preoccupied replaying his conversation with Liam in his head, the alcohol was kicking in, or this was just your typical Ireland driving experience.
A roundabout appeared out of nowhere. “Omigod. What do I do?” Heart racing, I put a death grip on the steering wheel.
“You’re grand. Yield to the right, drive to the left.”
Yield, drive, yield, drive…
No cars to the right, I turned left into the roundabout. Three roads exited off of the circle. “Which one do I take?”
“The first.”
Having just passed the second, I drove around again. A car zipped into the circle, and I pressed on the brake without downshifting. Our car rocked to a halt. The other car veered off onto the first exit. Taking deep breaths to regulate my short, shallow ones, I waited to regain enough confidence to start the car or for Declan to sober up enough to drive.
Whichever came first.
A car honked and swerved around us.
Declan glared at the passing driver. “Nearly hit ya, he did. Why ya stopping?”
I gave Declan the evil eye, then g
ave myself a pep talk. A sitting duck in the roundabout, I pushed in the clutch and started the car. I drove around the circle once more, then took the first road out of hell. Driving on the opposite side was turning out to be the easiest part of navigating Ireland’s narrow roads.
Twenty minutes later, I was about to ask if we were almost in Northern Ireland, when Declan said, “It’s just up the road.”
Declan’s town lit up the sky in the distance. Thank God. The end was in sight. But rather than a small village illuminating the dark sky, it was Declan’s parents’ yard, decorated for the holidays.
“It’s best to say we’re just friends, or my mum will interrogate the bloody hell outta ya.”
My gaze darted to Declan. “I thought your family was at your aunt’s?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Oh, ah, yeah, they’re not.”
“You lied to me?”
He peered out the window. “No, not really.”
“Not really?”
“They were supposed to go but decided not to.”
“When?”
“Few weeks ago.”
“I got here a few days ago, and you said they were gone.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
So if I hadn’t had to drive his ass home, I’d never have known he’d lied. Not to mention, he could have called home to have someone pick us up at the pub!
Fuming, I drove up the candy cane-lined driveway. In the yard, wire sheep guided a red sleigh driven by a blow-up Grinch, his small brown dog, Max, in the passenger seat, with a glowing red nose. Wooden cutouts of Whoville and its residents included Cindy Lou Who and several Minions. Colored lights covered every tree and shrub and framed the windows of the large two-story yellow home. Sturdy cloth antlers jutted from the windows of a small blue car, a red nose wedged in its grill.
Womp. I hit something.
I slammed on the brakes.
Omigod. What had I run into?
Clumps of snow trailed across the hood. A blond girl in a purple jacket and jeans stood in front of us grinning, swiping her mittens together. I’d been so overwhelmed by the lights I hadn’t noticed her whipping a snowball at us. I let out a relieved sigh that I hadn’t hit their family pet. I recognized Zoe from Facebook. She was twenty-five, a year older than me, four years younger than Declan. She apparently shared her brother’s sense of humor. I’d been anxious to meet her, just not under these circumstances.
Declan’s mom turned from hanging a wreath on the front door, her curious gaze narrowed on me. I smiled, a nervous feeling in my stomach, even though we weren’t revealing our relationship status, which I was starting to question.
I peeled my white-knuckled grip from the steering wheel. I wiggled my fingers, trying to regain the circulation. We stepped from the car, and Zoe ran over and launched herself at Declan, throwing her arms around him, causing him to stumble back against the car.
She waved a hand in front of her crinkled nose. “Stopped for a pint or two, did ya?”
Declan’s mom introduced herself as Jane. Her welcoming smile eased the tension in my neck. Declan had her bright-blue eyes, which still held a glint of curiosity.
Before I could introduce myself, Zoe gave me a huge hug. “Caity! I didn’t know you were coming.”
“You two have met?” his mom asked.
Zoe nodded. “On Facebook.”
“I work with Declan.” Now I was referring to myself as merely a coworker, after Declan had upgraded me to friend status.
“Isn’t this snow fab?” Zoe squealed with delight. “Do you get much snow where you live?”
“We had thirty-two inches in three days last year with five- to ten-foot drifts. My dad opened the garage door, and we could only see a few inches of light over the top of the snow drift.”
Zoe’s eyes widened. “What’d he do?”
“Closed the door.”
She laughed. “I’m coming to visit you next year. It’d be lovely to see that much snow. I’d never go inside.”
“You’d get sick of it pretty quick.”
Zoe shook her head. “I wouldn’t. I’m seriously coming for a visit. Never been to the States.”
“Leave the poor girl alone,” Declan’s mom said. “She hasn’t even taken her bag from the boot, and you’re making plans to pack your own for a visit.”
“I see you and Tara Gavigan are still competing.” Declan gestured to the lit-up yard.
“Every time I put up a new decoration, that woman puts one up. Trying to outdo me, she is.”
“She could never outdo you. Dublin could divert planes here.” Declan kissed his mother’s cheek, putting a bright smile on her face.
He grabbed his suitcase from the car’s boot, chatting with Zoe.
Jane studied me with interest, smiling. “This is a nice surprise. I had no idea that Declan was bringing a friend,” she mused over this discovery.
“We’re coworkers. I’m staying at a B and B. I need to go check in, if someone could please take me.”
“You’ll do no such thing. You’ll be staying here with us.”
No way was I staying in a bedroom down the hall from Declan, especially after he’d lied about his parents being gone.
Overhearing his mother’s invite, Declan stopped talking and appeared to sober at the thought of me staying there.
“I appreciate it but—”
“No buts.” Jane pulled my brown carry-on from the trunk.
“That’d be fab if you stayed.” Zoe turned to Declan. “Wouldn’t it, now?”
He nodded faintly, an apprehensive look in his eyes. Zoe looped an arm through his, leading him toward the house.
“Which B and B?” his mom asked.
“Cullens.”
She waved away my concern. “Claire Cullen would rather be spending her time shopping for Christmas pastries in Dublin than baking scones for guests. Only runs the place because she needs a hobby. She won’t mind if you cancel. I’ll give her a ring.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“I won’t have you paying for a room when I have a perfectly fine one here for free.”
The reservation was under penalty at this point, so Claire Cullen wouldn’t care if I canceled. Rachel had it guaranteed to her card. Not having much choice, I hauled my suitcase from the trunk.
“I’m glad you drove,” Jane said. “A half-pint and the garda will pull you over. It’s hurting the rural pubs. Luckily, Carter’s is just a short walk up the road. But I see Declan couldn’t wait and had to get an early start. That difficult for him to come home for a visit, is it?” A hurt expression creased her face.
“We stopped at Molloy’s in Killybog to thank his friend Peter for locating my relative, and Shauna’s brother, Liam, showed up.”
“Ah, did he now…” She nodded in understanding, yet looked surprised. Possibly that I knew about Shauna? She let out a deep sigh. “Thanks for minding him.”
I was still upset over Liam, and Declan lying about his parents, but my anger diminished. For all the times he’d looked out for me, I owed him one, or rather several dozen.
We stepped inside the house. The scent of freshly baked goods filled my head, and the feeling started returning to my fingers. Red garland wrapped around the stairway banister and framed the doorways off the yellow hallway. The interior was more tastefully decorated than the exterior. I hung my jacket on a hook over several pairs of wellies lined up on a mat. Declan’s suitcase sat in the foyer. His and Zoe’s voices echoed from a room down the hall.
Declan’s mom carried my brown bag, and I schlepped my purple suitcase up the stairs. I balanced the suitcase on each step while Jane pointed out the people in photos lining the wall, including a younger Declan. His eyes were even bluer and his hair lighter, yet it still had that tousled look and natural wave. Next to his photo was a black-and-white antique wedding photo of a couple with their names written in blue ink across the top. Thomas Flood and Catherine Darcy Flood.
“That’s a neat
picture,” I said. “Who are they?”
“Not sure, but it’s a lovely snap, isn’t it?”
It was sad when photos were passed down without noting the people’s relationship. The photo of Grandma and her sister was our oldest family photo.
Jane frowned at an empty nail. She glanced down at the foyer, then back at the nail and lowered her voice. “That was Declan and”—she mouthed Shauna’s—“engagement snap there. He took it down. I haven’t put another up, hoping one day he’d want it back there…” She shook her head in defeat.
I stared at the empty nail. Who’d have thought a nail could look so lonely, so sad?
Declan’s mom opened the door at the top of the stairs, jarring me from my thoughts. “You’ll be here in the green room.”
I hauled my suitcase up the rest of the stairs and joined her in the bedroom. Christmas decorations filled sage-colored walls. Green lights twinkled on a small tree in a corner. A snowman and Santa pillow lay against the green-and-red quilt.
“Thank you for bringing Declan home early. The last several years he’s merely shown up Christmas day, then jetted off somewhere for work.” Her voice cracked, and she paused a moment. “This is a very special Christmas, having him here to decorate the tree and spend time as a family. Especially since Aidan won’t be home until Christmas Eve.”
“You’re welcome, but I didn’t really do anything.”
“If he wasn’t bringing ya here to meet your rellie, he wouldn’t have come home this early. So thanks a mil for making my Christmas wish come true.” She gave my hand a squeeze. “Could be you’re just what he needs to get back in sorts.”
Maybe Declan’s family was just what I needed. Together, could we help Declan put the past behind him?
Chapter Nine
I stood in the hallway, eyeing several closed doors, wondering which room was Declan’s and if it looked the same as when he was growing up. My childhood room did. Tempted to sneak a peek at his past, but not wanting to get caught snooping, I headed down the stairs. The empty nail on the wall was more haunting than if their engagement picture still hung there. Had it been taken in a photo studio or outdoors next to a field of sheep? Had Declan worn his usual jeans and a wool sweater, or had he spiffed up for the occasion? What had Shauna looked like? If Liam was a good representation of their family genes, she’d been gorgeous. I shoved aside visions of the photo.