To Blake, With Love

by KT Webb

  “I don’t know, Gannon, don’t think I can stick around here if yer gonna serve American trash,” Roald shouts over the music.

  “Roald. . .” my tone gives a warning he doesn’t heed.

  I know Blake heard him because she has an eyebrow raised in his direction. Part of me hopes she decimates him with her sharp tongue. When I see he’s got that ridiculous cane in his hand, all I can think of is diffusing the situation before he starts something I’m going to have to finish.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here,” Roald directs his gaze toward Blake again.

  “Roald, it sounds like you’ve had enough to drink tonight. Maybe you should head out for the night before you embarrass anyone,” I suggest, rounding the bar and placing myself between him and Blake.

  “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on being in the same room as this garbage. Disgusting,” Roald spits on the floor.

  “Real mature,” Blake mutters.

  “What’s that, lass? You have something you’d like to say to me? Go ahead. Or maybe you’re like your grandad and grandma, too wrapped up in your own lies to tell your family the truth!”

  That’s it. He’s gone too far tonight. I’m not going to let him desecrate my pub just because he’s used to being allowed to spout off to whoever he wants. I place a hand on his shoulder and gently turn him toward the exit.

  “Get your hands off me, Fitzpatrick! Do you know who that bitch is?”

  He continues shouting as I practically toss him outside. Roald is lucky I’m not the kind to lose my cool and get into a fight with a grumpy old man. He throws the cane up so he can grab it lower down. The cane is now in his hand in a threatening manner.

  “Bugger off, Roald. Don’t make me call your son again.”

  The last time he caused a scene in my pub, I had to have his son and grandson (both named Roald) come to fetch him. This time I’m not going to give him another chance. I can feel the crowd gathering in the door behind me.

  “You’re going to choose her over me?”

  “The way I see it, there’s no choice to make. Blake has been here for a month, and you’ve not shown your face until tonight. Maybe if you actually tried to speak to her like a civil human being, you’d find she’s worth twice as much as you’ll ever be.”

  A collective gasp behind me tells me the make up of the audience is mostly Molloy’s. No one talks to Roald Molloy I this way. No one. Well, I think it’s high time someone puts him in his place. Blake doesn’t deserve to be treated like that, and I won’t stand by while it happens in my pub. Roald glances over my shoulder and decides he’d better not make a bigger scene with an audience. He turns and walks down the street toward his house. Everyone will know how he behaved by morning.

  After the confrontation with Roald, I went back inside to check on Blake. She was gone. Patrick told me she took off out the side door while I was removing Roald from the building. I can only hope she wasn’t too affected by the thoughtless words thrown around by someone like Roald. When we’re cleaning up from the night, I decided I’ll go check on her in the morning.

  My phone vibrates to alert me to something it thinks is more important than anything I could possibly be doing with my time. When I unlock the screen, a thrill of secret excitement flows through me. Blake posted another entry in her blog. The one she wrote a week ago hit me like a ton of bricks. The mystery of her past started to become a little clearer with that post. It was the first time she really shared anything personal. Now I know she’s opening up bit by bit. This post will undoubtedly tell me where her mind is after the run-in with Roald. I open up the page and click on the most recent post. It went live just minutes ago.

  To Grandpa,

  Well, I met one of your brothers tonight. I’m not sure what I did to make him speak so poorly about me in a public place, but I may have gotten my first glimpse into why you never tried to mend fences with your family. My friend, Gannon, stepped in to stand up for me before any damage was done. I’m sure I could have handled myself just fine. Though, I’m also sure the way I handled things would have ended in more work for me in the long run.

  Other than the one unpleasant interaction, I had a great time listening to a live band. According to Gannon, everyone in the group is a cousin of mine. Molly Molloy and the Mandrakes have a funky sound that I look forward to hearing again. Unfortunately, I left before the band returned for their second set. I didn’t think it was wise to stick around in the aftermath of the confrontation.

  Now that I’m back at home, I can’t help but wonder if I’m going to face more of the same as I try to be the ambassador for you. I’m confused by the behavior I witnessed. You were never anything other than a kind and giving man. It baffles me that anyone would think differently of you, but I guess that’s why I’m here, right?

  Tomorrow, I’m going to talk to Gannon about what happened and see if he can help me find a better way to approach the situation. I think he really cares about me. That’s nice to know.

  In case you’re wondering, yes, he’s cute. I’m not looking for anything more than friendship, though. After what happened in Dublin (don’t worry, it wasn’t bad), I don’t even know if he would be interested if I did want to pursue him. There’s something about him that tells me I should keep him in my life. Almost like he’s going to be the one to show me I don’t have to be afraid to make connections with people. His mother, Aoife, is the one who has helped me settle in and made me feel like family. Maybe it’s time I open up a little and make a few friends.

  I miss you more than I can express.

  With Love,

  Blake

  This is the first time Blake has mentioned me in her blog. I re-read everything she said about me. This is looking better than I thought. Maybe I have a chance, after all.

  Last night wasn’t comfortable, but I’m not easily discouraged. If being called a bitch is the worst I’m going to face from this cranky old bastard, I’ll take it. I can’t say it’s the first time I’ve been called that, and it won’t be the last. I’m almost sure of it.

  I slept late, so I missed breakfast at the B&B. My coffeemaker isn’t here yet, so I’ll have to run up to the manor house to get some. The entire time I’m getting ready for the day, my mind keeps drifting back to the way Gannon stepped in to stop Roald from whatever else he had planned last night. I’m not stupid, I know my body finds Gannon far more intriguing than I’ve let my mind consider. It was hot as hell the way he defended me. Even when I left the pub, I watched the interaction between him and my great uncle. He wasn’t about to let the old man get off easily.

  My blog post may have been a little too forward, but I was tipsy and emotional. The worst that will happen is someone who knows these people will read what I wrote and tell Gannon I want to be his friend. Big deal. He already knows that.

  A knock at the cottage door startles me from staring blankly at my closet. Other than Aoife, I’m not sure who would be knocking on my door. I already know she’s occupied with guests, so I find it hard to believe it’s her. I head to answer the insistent knocking, flinging the door open to see the elderly gentleman from last night using a knobby cane with a worn bronze head to make the racket that summoned me. If I didn’t know better, I’d have made a quip about how I thought I was supposed to catch leprechauns, not have them appear at my door.

  “How can I help you?” I ask with what I hope is a kind smile. I’m not sure how else to react to the man who confronted me last night, showing up unannounced.

  “You can take your things and leave. Nobody wants you here. If my brother were standing in front of me instead of his granddaughter, I’d rap him over the head with my cane!”

  Obviously, this guy isn’t any friendlier when he’s sober. He’s feisty. I think I’d probably like him under different circumstances. I’m a little taken aback at how confrontational he is, but I should have known this type of behavior was coming.

  “My name is Blake Molloy. My father is the oldest son of Brion Molloy.
I know this isn’t how you would have wanted to meet any part of your brother's family, but I wasn’t given a different option,” I explain as I offer my hand for him to shake.

  A flash of metal and intense pain shoots through the hand I offered. That tiny little man just hit me with his cane! So much for trying to be friendly. Shit, that hurts. I bring my hand closer to my body and cradle it against my chest. It’s throbbing and will likely need to be iced. He certainly didn’t hold back with that swing. If my hand had been a baseball, he might have gotten a home run!

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he brandishes the cane in my direction again.

  “That may be, but I plan to be sticking around for an extended period. You should learn some manners. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have much better things to do right now,” I explain just as I’m about to close the door in his face.

  “Roald! I don’t think anyone was expecting you,” Gannon comes sprinting into view. I wasn’t expecting him either.

  It only takes a few moments for him to assess the situation. Gannon looks between Roald Molloy and me. Obviously, the man is my great uncle, but he’s anything but great, in my opinion. Clearly, my body language tells the story I’m not going to share unless Gannon pushes for answers. The look on his face tells me there won’t be any need for explanation.

  “Mr. Molloy, for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Gannon tells him firmly.

  “Oh, it’s Mr. Molloy now, is it? Well, son, you can’t ask me to leave my own property, now can you?” Roald asks defiantly.

  Gannon shoots me an apologetic look before he says the worst possible thing he could. “Actually, sir, with all due respect, this is not your property.”

  My mouth falls open. Gannon is baiting the old guy into an argument. Even worse than that, I already know where this conversation is headed. Gannon is about to saddle me with ownership of property that has been the source of a family upheaval for decades. I’m pretty sure Roald knows it too because he looks at me over his shoulder with a glare that could burn holes in my head. Well, this is starting out wonderfully. I can’t wait for the rest of the extended family that hates me to hear about this one.

  “Oh? And who do you think this property belongs to? Now that Brion is dead, I’m the oldest Molloy brother, that means this land is mine.”

  Gannon shakes his head, “Sorry, Roald, that’s not how it works. In the months leading up to his death, your brother arranged everything. Mum received a letter only this morning. He left this bed and breakfast, the dairy, and the surrounding land to his granddaughter, Blake Molloy.”

  I have no idea what to say. Nothing in the letter from my grandfather said anything about inheriting this place. Why didn’t Gannon mention this was a possibility before now? When was I supposed to find out that grandpa had planned for me to become the new pariah of the Molloy clan? I can’t breathe.

  “You’re lying, Fitzpatrick. Where’s the proof?” Roald is practically screaming at Gannon.

  Aoife comes out of the manor house to see what’s causing the commotion outside and stops short when she sees the little old man brandishing his cane at her son. I’ve never seen an actual mama bear in action, but I’m pretty sure this is what it looks like. Aoife is charging Roald Molloy with fury in her eyes.

  “You get out of here and leave that poor girl alone, Roald! I don’t know how many times I have to tell you to back off. You are not now, nor have you ever been in charge of what happens at Molloy Bed and Breakfast.”

  “I’ll tell you one thing, Aoife, you have a set of iron balls on you. I’ll leave, but you can bet your soul I’ll be back, and I’ll expect you to produce the will that binds this land over to that American brat,” Roald walks away, hardly using the cane he seems keen on carrying around.

  For a moment, I look back and forth between Aoife, Gannon, and the shrinking form of Roald Molloy. My head is spinning, my hand is throbbing, and I’m on the verge of an emotional breakdown. I have no idea why the world is spinning. I can see Gannon running toward me, but he seems a little out of focus. My ears are filled with a strange sound that reminds me of a heartbeat. Before I realize what’s happening, I’m falling into the arms of the man who seems hell-bent on pushing me away.

  “Blake? Can you hear me?”

  I know Gannon is talking to me, but I don’t think I want to answer him. The fuzzy memories start to resurface sooner than I’d like, so I open my eyes to see him hovering over me. I’m even sure where I am. After a cursory look around, I realize I’m lying on the couch in my cottage. I passed out. Why on earth would I pass out?

  “What happened?” I mumble through thick lips.

  “I think you got a little overwhelmed. Once again, I opened my mouth when I should have stayed quiet,” Gannon looked over his shoulder toward the kitchen where I could hear the sounds of someone moving around. “I didn’t know you weren’t told about inheriting this place. I’m sorry. I guess I saw Roald and his dumb cane, and the way you were holding that hand and knew I had to do something to get him to leave.”

  Almost as if my brain was blocking the pain until it was pointed out, I recognize the intense pain emanating from my left hand. I lift it to look at the damage. The bruise is just beginning to show, it’s purple and red. The swelling isn’t terrible, but it’s cool to the touch, so I’m assuming they’ve been icing it while I was out. I don’t know what to say to Gannon. It isn’t his fault I didn’t know, it’s my grandfather's. I start to sit up slowly, and I’m silently thankful for Gannon’s support.

  “I’m embarrassed,” I whisper while staring at the floor.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. You’ve got a lot on your plate already, and I just added to it. Listen, your grandfather sent a letter along with a copy of his will. The letter is addressed to you, so ma didn’t open it.”

  Aoife is leaning against the door frame between the kitchen and living room. The envelope in her hands has my name scrawled across it in that familiar handwriting that brought me here. If grandpa wanted me to know something more, I guess it’s best that I read it now. I offer Aoife a nod to indicate that I’m ready. She hands the letter to me and gestures for Gannon to follow her back into the kitchen.

  “I’m making us some sandwiches and tea, though Gannon tells me you much prefer coffee. I’ll have to pick some up later on. Take your time dear,” Aoife’s voice is soft.

  I appreciate the relative privacy as I carefully tear open the letter despite the pain it causes my injured hand. With a deep breath, I prepare to read the next installment in this puzzle I’m supposed to piece back together.

  Dearest Blake,

  Words cannot express how it feels to write this letter knowing you’ll read it while standing on the ground that made me. My first letter to you may have been a little misleading. I do want you to mend the broken pieces I left behind when I emigrated, but I also want you to have the freedom to become the person you’re meant to be.

  Over the past few years, I’ve watched you go from being the brightest bloom in the garden of my family to a terrified wallflower. You’re afraid of putting yourself out in the world again. You were hurt, you have every right to be frightened. But you can’t let that keep you from living your life to the fullest. You have so much to offer the world.

  When your heart was broken, I prayed for it to be mended. I wanted you to be able to move on and embrace life. I’ve watched you try to rebuild with the remnants of your soul, but something is missing. I want to give you a piece of my life to help you create something better and bigger than you imagined. You represent everything my family stood for; strength, resilience, and dignity. You may not see it now, but I know in time you will. That’s why I’ve left you everything I own in Ireland.

  Don’t worry, I made sure Nana, my children, and other grandchildren were all well taken care of years ago. Nana and I agreed that this was a piece of ourselves we wanted to give to you.

  Whether you choose to stay in Kinnitty or
move on to travel the world, is up to you. As I sit here thinking about how little time I have left on this earth, only one thing keeps returning to my mind. You.

  Perhaps you had to lose everything so you could find yourself.

  With all my love,

  Grandpa

  Before I can stop it, a sob bubbles up from the depths of my broken soul. My grandfather was dying, and he spent the limited time he had left trying to find a way to help me rebuild my life. Of course, my grief draws the attention of both Fitzpatrick’s waiting in my kitchen. The last thing I want is for them to watch me wallow in the pain I’ve been holding back. I don’t have much choice as strong arms gently wrap around my shoulders, and a small delicate hand grips my uninjured hand. We sit together for what feels like hours as I shed every tear I’ve kept at bay since before I found out about losing one of the most important men in my life. Once I stop crying, I feel Aoife release my hand as she retreats to the kitchen. Gannon is still holding me close.