"What's your problem, Cait?" Shane asked directly.
"Mine? What's yours? Did your girl catch you kissing me? Those flowers for an apology?" Cait raised an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Actually, they were for you. But damned if I'll be giving them up now," Shane said, and turned from her, striding angrily across the street to his car.
Cait's mouth dropped open and she tried to think of a single thing to say but nothing came out. The slow heat of shame slipped up her cheeks and she dropped her head before pulling the door open to step into the cool shop. Shane was going to bring her flowers? And her favorite ones at that? She couldn't help but feel a trickle of warmth go through her. How did he even know what her favorite flowers were, she wondered.
"Hullo there, Cait," Anne, the owner of the flower shop, called out to her.
"Hi, Anne," Cait said and moved into the shop, allowing the pretty scents and cool air to wash over her.
"What brings you in today?"
"I heard that Mrs. Donovan had a stroke. I thought that I might stop by, bring her something pretty," Cait said.
"Aye, that's right nice of you, Cait. Her favorites are lilies and I have some lovely ones in today." Anne gestured to the case where a variety of lilies stood in tall buckets.
"Let's do a mix of colors, a happy bunch," Cait decided.
"Yes, ma'am," Anne said. Cait half listened as she chattered about Keelin's wedding. Her brain was whirling with thoughts of why Shane would be bringing her flowers. Was he really dating the blonde? Did he feel bad about kissing Cait the other night? If Shane lived by his own code of honor then he probably felt bad because he was her landlord, Cait thought stubbornly. Frustrated, she paced in front of the buckets of flowers.
"All set, Cait. Tell her that I send my love," Anne said cheerfully and Cait grabbed the wrapped bunch of flowers and left to begin the drive along the coast.
Chapter 9
Shane sat in his car and stared at the bouquet of flowers on the front seat. What had he been thinking…bringing Cait flowers? That woman was more stubborn than the old mule he kept housed out at his stables. Shane blew out a breath and slammed his fist onto the steering wheel.
He'd loved Cait Gallagher for a while now. Though they'd gone to school together, she was younger than him and had never come onto his radar until that one day.
That day…Shane closed his eyes and thought back to the day when Cait had burned her path straight into his mind and down into his heart.
He'd been at the market, picking up his usual bachelor fare for dinner, and had heard hushed voices arguing. Tilting his head, Shane had peered around a stack of produce to see Cait arguing with her mother, who worked at the market.
"You'll fail, just like the Gallaghers have always failed," Sarah had hissed at Cait.
Cait had stood before her mother, her chin held high, fire burning in her eyes.
"I won't fail," Cait said.
"You're stupid to think that you can run a pub," Sarah said.
"I'm not. It's a good business plan. The bank agrees," Cait said adamantly.
"Borrowing money to go into debt…only to fail. You'll only do worse for yourself. I, for one, won't support this foolish idea of yours," Sarah said and crossed her arms, looking down her nose at her daughter.
"I want something more for myself, Ma, can't you see that?" Cait had whispered and Shane had wanted to rush in and protect her from Sarah. He'd seen the business plan when Cait had approached him about renting his property. It was just what the pub needed to breathe new life into the downtown area and Shane was quite certain it would be a smashing success. But, he knew better than to involve himself in a family fight.
Shane had watched as Cait continued to defend herself against her mother before Sarah threw up her hands and walked away. Shane had watched Cait's face fall and the sheen of tears enter her eyes. He'd wanted nothing more than to reassure her that he would make sure that she never failed but something had stopped him. Cait had taken a deep breath and wiped her eyes before sailing from the store. She had never looked more beautiful than in her moment of fierceness and Shane had found his interest piqued.
Over the past three years, Shane had watched Cait put her heart and soul into Gallagher's pub. She'd grown it into a thriving business that was the hub of the community. Sarah still refused to step foot in the door but Shane imagined that Cait was probably okay with that.
Shane often found himself daydreaming about Cait. About the way her hair curled over her smooth cheeks or how her pretty green eyes lit with laughter at a joke that one of her patrons would tell her. She exuded a quiet confidence in a pint-sized package. A package that he had longed to undress for years.
Shane groaned as he thought about the kiss from the other night. Two kisses he'd had now. Her taste was burned into his mind, forever changing how he would look at Cait. He'd tried to quash his feelings for her for a while now. As her landlord, dating her would be unethical, Shane thought. But…her lips. The kiss by the cove felt like it had been the kiss to end all kisses for him. From now on, there would be no other. He'd been stupid to bring Ellen to the wedding with him. There was no point to making Cait jealous, Shane thought.
With a frustrated sigh, Shane started his car and drove towards the pub. Though she didn't necessarily deserve flowers after the way she’d treated him, it was time to keep Cait Gallagher on her toes, Shane thought with a smile.
Chapter 10
The Donovans lived a ways out of the village along a small road that led to low cliffs overlooking the sparkling water. It was a lovely spot, though it had to be difficult for an invalid to live in now, Cait thought. She wondered how Mrs. Donovan's husband was coping.
Cait turned on a small curve in the road and pulled into the gravel drive that led to a gray stone cottage with a thatched roof. Mr. Donovan was working in the yard. A rotund man, he had on farmer's overalls and a straw hat. He straightened at the sound of a car and lifted an arm in a wave to Cait. Cait turned the car off and, grabbing the flowers, crossed the front lawn to greet him.
"Mr. Donovan, good to see you," Cait called.
"Aye, Cait, good to see you too. I hope this isn't about my tab at the pub," he said cheerfully.
Cait laughed at him and reached up to kiss his cheek.
"No, I've come to see the missus. I heard about her stroke," Cait said.
The light went out of his eyes and he nodded sadly. "It's sad. Hard to see her like this. I wish that I could do more for her." Mr. Donovan shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
"Well, maybe I can help with that. Can I talk to her?"
"Sure you can, but she can't really answer back more than a shake of her head," Mr. Donovan said. He led her around the house to where a cluster of trees stood. The view of the sea was unobstructed here and Mrs. Donovan sat beneath the trees in the shade they provided. Her eyes followed them as they walked closer.
"Hi, Mrs. Donovan, I brought you flowers," Cait said. She held them out awkwardly before realizing that Mrs. Donovan wouldn't be able to reach for them.
"Here, I'll just show you all the different colors," Cait said and turned the bouquet so Mrs. Donovan could admire them. Letting down her shields, Cait scanned the old woman's brain.
"I love lilies. Oh, they are so precious. They would be perfect in my crystal vase from our wedding."
Cait handed them to Mr. Donovan.
"Um, do you maybe have a pretty crystal vase for these?"
"We sure do. A lovely one from our wedding. I'll find it now." Mr. Donovan pulled another chair close for Cait and then crossed the grass to go inside.
Cait blew out a breath and sat in the chair, taking Mrs. Donovan's hand in hers. It was now or never, she thought. She cleared her throat awkwardly a few times.
"Okay, so…ahem, this is going to sound weird, but just hear me out," Cait stammered. "Gosh, I don't really know how to say this."
Cait turned to see the old woman's eyes tracking her avidly.
>
"I, um, well, it's like this: I can read minds," Cait rushed out in a breath. Mrs. Donovan's eyebrow rose.
"So, I just thought, maybe you'd like to talk to me a bit. I can hear you if you'd like. So, do you want me to try?"
Mrs. Donovan stared at her for a moment and then gave a subtle nod, yes, with her head.
Cait let down her shields and listened.
"Can you really hear me? I feel like I'm dead in here but my mind has so many thoughts. I'm still here."
"Of course you're still here. You're still a person. We know that," Cait said automatically and then gasped as Mrs. Donovan choked and a slow trickle of tears poured from her eyes.
"Oh, no, please don't cry, Mr. Donovan will kick me out," Cait said desperately.
"I…I'm just so happy to talk to someone," Mrs. Donovan thought.
"I know and I'm sorry that I didn't come sooner. I…I just…not many people know about this," Cait said.
"Well, your secret is safe with me," Mrs. Donovan said in her mind and winked at her and Cait burst out laughing.
"Well, it looks like you two are having fun," Mr. Donovan boomed across the yard. He hurried over to see the tears on his wife's cheeks. Instantly he straightened to glare at Cait. "Why is she crying?"
"Tell him. He doesn't gossip. Tell him, please. Oh, I so want to talk to him again," Mrs. Donovan instructed Cait.
"Um, well, so, it's like this…" Cait stammered. "I, uh, can kind of read minds."
Mr. Donovan's face went a little white and he turned to gape at his wife.
"What? You can talk to her?" Mr. Donovan gestured to his wife.
"Yes, sir, I can."
"Tell me what color underwear I put on this morning," Mr. Donovan demanded.
"He put the faded blue ones on that I've told him to get rid of a million times," Mrs. Donovan said. Cait quirked a smile at her.
"Um, your old blue ones that she told you to get rid of a million times."
Mr. Donovan gasped and, bending over, he scooped Cait from her chair and twirled her in a circle before putting her down to kiss his wife tenderly.
"Tell him that he's been making the bread wrong," Mrs. Donovan said.
"You've been making the bread wrong," Cait said.
"Don't I know it? Thank God you've come." Mr. Donovan chuckled and, drawing up a chair, he began to pepper his wife with questions. Cait laughed and soon fell into an easy rhythm of conversation for an hour. As the sun slipped towards the horizon, Mr. Donovan stood.
"I'll need to help her to the bathroom and start dinner. You're welcome to stay, of course," he said eagerly.
"I have to go, I'm sorry."
Mr. Donovan held her hand and stared into her eyes.
"You've given us a great gift today. I don't know how to ask this but I'd be willing to pay you or help with chores at the pub or anything you need if you could see it in your heart to stop by here and there. Just…so we can talk." Mr. Donovan gulped and Cait felt her heart tear a bit for the couple.
"I'll make this my Monday afternoon stop, okay? Save up your questions for Mondays. And, in the meantime, maybe we can start devising a system of signals for the both of you to communicate. Think about it this week," Cait suggested. She leaned over to kiss Mrs. Donovan's cheek.
"Bless you, Cait. A thousand blessings. You've given me my voice back. I'm forever beholden to you," Mrs. Donovan said.
"No, really, it's nothing. The least that I can do," Cait said, embarrassed.
She left the couple smiling happily at each other. Cait felt a sense of lightness fill her on the drive home. It was a new feeling, one that came from truly helping someone else. She thought that maybe Fiona had been right after all about claiming her power. It wasn't all about her, there was so much more that she could do with her ability. She'd spent her whole life hiding it when she could have been helping others. A pang of sadness hit her as she thought about the old couple and their love for each other. She wanted that…that true, pure love.
Detouring past the pub, she parked her car and stopped in to pick up the mail. Cait gasped as she stepped into the dim interior and saw a large vase of Gerbera daisies on the bar.
"Those were dropped off for you…there's a note," her chef called before passing back into the kitchen.
Trying to keep a smile from her lips, Cait crossed to the bar and plucked the note from among the blooms. She opened it and read the one word it held.
Stupid.
Cait huffed out a laugh at the same time she felt anger fill her. How did he do it? Make her mad and make her laugh at the same time? Cait nibbled at her lip as she looked at the cheerful bunch of flowers. She felt like things were shifting, yet she couldn't seem to get her feet on solid ground with Shane. Frustrated, Cait whisked the vase from the bar and left for her tiny apartment.
Chapter 11
Cait waited anxiously for her coffee to brew. She'd barely slept the night before and when she had, her dreams had been filled with images of Shane with the blonde. Which was stupid, Cait thought. She didn't even know what their relationship was. It wasn't like he was bringing the blonde flowers. Or was he? Cait thought about it but just couldn't wrap her head around Shane going after two women. And yet… Trying to push her insecurities aside, Cait pulled out a coffee cup and thought about her trip to see the Donovans yesterday.
Cait was filled with a strange mixture of excitement over discovering how her gift could help others and nervousness about what this would mean for her future. If she continued to help others, would the word get out? Would there be people lining up at her door trying to use her as a lie detector in their business dealings? Cait could only imagine the nefarious ways that people would try to take advantage of her. Which was why she'd always hidden her gift, Cait thought.
She went back to thinking about Shane and the blonde dancing at the wedding.
"Sure and he can take every other woman in Ireland out on a date but me," Cait said grumpily. The scent of coffee teased her nose and she breathed a sigh of relief as the pot finished brewing. Pouring a cup, she took it with her to the shower. Since she was up so early, Cait wanted to stop by her mother's for a word.
Cait tried not to let her thoughts stray to Shane during her shower. It was hard not to as the bouquet of flowers was a constant reminder of him. She had placed them by her bed last night and foolishly smiled at the cheerful blossoms each time she looked at them. Cait rinsed her hair and tried to focus on other things. She was dangerously afraid that she was becoming besotted with Shane. Instead, she needed to think about how she would approach her mother.
Sarah Gallagher worked as a cashier at the local food market. She had never traveled out of Grace's Cove, had raised Cait by herself after Cait's father had left when Cait was just a baby, and feared anything that she didn't understand. Sarah's whole world was her job and her TV shows. Cait had always confused Sarah with her need to make something of herself and her business. Cait bit her lip as the old resentment crept in while she towel dried her hair. Until she settled down with a man and did "woman's work" her mother would never approve of her. Cait sniffed. It hurt her heart, just a bit, to know that Sarah and she would never have a friendship.
Cait wondered why her mother had never told her that she had her own special gifts. Did her mother just deny it or did she refuse to talk about it? Cait wondered how Sarah would react when Cait confronted her about it. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the link that finally drew them closer. It would be nice to find something to connect with her mother about.
Mulling over these thoughts, Cait slipped into her uniform of jeans and a stretchy tank top. Usually she flew out of her apartment with wet hair and little to no makeup. An image of Shane's beautiful blonde flashed through her head and with a groan, Cait walked back to her vanity and examined herself in the mirror. The deep purple of her tank was a flattering color for her eyes and skin tone. Cait picked up a pretty beaded necklace that Aislinn had made for her and slipped it over her neck, allowing it to drape over h
er chest and to dress up her casual outfit. She pumped some mousse into her hands and wound it through her tousled mop of curls, smoothing their wildness. Cait squinted and then with a sigh, added just a hint of eyeliner and some blush for a nice punch of color to her face. Slamming the eye pencil down, Cait decided that was enough, grabbed her messenger bag and left her tiny apartment.
Pounding down the stairs, Cait skidded to a stop to press a kiss to Mr. O'Leary's papery cheek as he gathered his mail by the door.
"You're a good girl, Cait." Mr. O'Leary smiled and waved her on.
Cait smiled and stepped out onto the street, breathing in the morning air that carried a hint of the sea with it. Though she yearned to travel more, Cait had never been one to take for granted the beauty of their tiny village tucked in the hills by the sea. She whistled as she passed the brightly colored buildings that made up the main street and were quintessentially Irish in design. Hodgepodge stores nestled next to the bank and the chemist, each building painted a different color, windows lined with lace curtains and ringed with boxes full of flowers. Cait waved a hand at the banker as she passed his window and turned up the hill to make her way to her mother's tiny apartment building. She knew that Tuesdays were Sarah's afternoon shift so Cait would be able to catch her mother for an early cup of tea.
Cait reached the small white stucco building that housed four miniscule apartments. Though she had a key, she pressed the buzzer to her mother's apartment. They didn't have the "drop in unannounced" type of relationship.
"Yes?"
"Ma, it's me."
The door clicked open and Cait took the smooth wood stairs two at a time before reaching her mother's apartment on the second floor. The door stood open and Cait stepped through into her childhood home, the scent of lemon polish and freshly baked bread enveloping her. A small dining-room table dominated the room. To the right, a low brown couch and recliner lined a wall with windows. A small television sat directly across from the recliner. Cait had spent most of her life sleeping on that lumpy couch. A morose kitchenette with a paned window over the sink completed the main room. A tiny hallway led to her mother's room and a bathroom. As usual, the apartment was immaculate and the television was blaring with the morning talk shows. Sarah stood at the stove with a teapot.
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