Kiss Me, I'm Irish

by Barri Bryan

  "And to friendship,” Connal added as his cup touched hers.

  The meal was completed amid conversation about trivial matters. Underneath the calm chatter ran a current of uneasy tension. Each of them seemed to be drawing lines and testing boundaries. By tacit agreement neither of them mentioned the past. After dinner they moved to Margaret's comfortable den, sat on a long leather couch before an open fire and chatted about everything from current events to ancient history.

  Gradually Margaret relaxed. She had forgotten what an exciting and articulate man Connal Cassidy was. He possessed the ability to scrutinize and dissect complex issues with accuracy and precision. After he had expounded in detail both sides of a particularly complex current economic trend, she cut her eyes in his direction and studied his handsome profile. How could he be so intellectually shrewd and insightful and at the same time so emotionally shallow and superficial?

  Connal's chuckle interrupted her straying thoughts. “You're staring."

  Margaret jerked her head to stare into the fire. “You are such a paradox.” Until this point they had both carefully avoided personal comments and questions. Margaret suddenly realized that she'd overstepped the bounds of polite conversation. Quickly she added, “I meant that as a compliment."

  "No you didn't.” Connal shifted and turned to face her. “And you are such a rotten liar.” He took one of her hands in both of his. His voice was as soft as a caress. “You always were."

  Margaret pulled her hand from his grasp. His nearness was doing strange things to her heart rate. She scooted down the couch putting space between them. “I have to ask you to go now. It's getting late and I have an early morning appointment."

  Connal moved down the couch pinning her between his body and the arm of the couch. “You're lying to me again, Maggie. Tomorrow's Saturday.” He laid one arm against the back of the couch and with his other hand brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “Nobody in this town has an early Saturday morning appointment."

  His touch sent a shiver down her spine even as it stirred her aggravation to anger. So Connal wanted the truth. That was exactly what he would get. She jumped to her feet and went to stand before the open fire. With he back to him she said, “You're right on both counts. I didn't mean my remark as a compliment and I don't have an early morning appointment.” Turning she faced him and pointed to the door. “But I do mean it when I say, leave now."

  Connal shrugged and then stood. “If you insist, when can I see you again?"

  This man was impossible. “You can't. Goodbye, Connal."

  Connal didn't move, “How about Sunday?"

  Margaret put both hands on her hips. “What part of no don't you understand?"

  Connal was almost to the door when he turned. “Tell Felicia that I'll get in touch with her regarding the matter she called about.” Swinging around, he swaggered through the door.

  Margaret called after him, “Just a damn minute."

  Connal retraced his footsteps back into the room. “Is there a problem?"

  Margaret snapped, “Come back here and sit down."

  Without argument or hesitation, Connal obeyed. When he was once more firmly ensconced on the couch, he asked, “What's wrong now?"

  As if he didn't know. Margaret tried to control her aggravation but with little success. “You promised to leave Felicia alone if I had dinner with you."

  Connal smiled that sexy smile that now infuriated her. “I'm trying, Maggie love, but Felicia keeps calling, asking me to take her out and I'm too much of a gentleman to be unkind."

  Margaret sat on the couch beside Connal. “You are no gentleman.” She suspected he was lying but she had to know for sure. “When did Felicia call you?"

  "After the Saint Patrick's Day Dance; she wanted me to take her for a ride in my Ferrari."

  Margaret's eyes narrowed dangerously, “And did you?"

  Connal lifted one hand, “Scout's honor. I refused. I had a dinner date with you and it didn't seem proper to be seeing both mother and daughter at the same time."

  Margaret swallowed her surprise. In a voice that seethed with suppressed anger she said, “I thought you understood that Felicia is off limits."

  Leaning back, Connal crossed his legs, “Sez who? She assures me she's of age."

  Frustration was making Margaret edgy and tense. “She is legally but.... “Why the hell was she arguing with this middle-aged, skirt-chasing Lothario? Sheer frustration pushed her to her feet. Pacing across the floor she turned to glare at him. “Leave Felicia alone or else...."

  Connal interrupted, “Or else what?” He held up one hand and patted the cushion beside him with the other. “Sit down, we can talk about this."

  What choice did she have? Margaret sat.

  Connal move a little nearer. “I'm going to be in Summerville for the next three months. During that time I need female company. If you're not available, Felicia is my second choice."

  Second choice indeed, Connal didn't give a damn what woman he was with so long as she was young and beautiful and willing. Margaret was oh so cautious. “Exactly what do you mean by female company? Surely he didn't have some idea of the two of them picking up where they had left off eighteen years ago.

  Connal moved even closer. “Relax I'm not going to expect anything more than friendship."

  Margaret decided to play it cool. “Maybe you and I can strike a deal."

  It was Connal's turn to be cautious. “What kind of a deal?"

  "I'll be your female companion for the three months you're in Summerville. In turn you agree not to see Felicia during that time?"

  Connal seemed to be in deep thought. After a spate of silence he said, “I don't know."

  He was undoubtedly the most infuriating man who ever drew breath. Margaret snapped, “Make up your mind before I change mine."

  Connal turned that thousand watt smile in her direction. “Oh, all right if you insist."

  Margaret eyed him critically. “Promise me that you'll keep your word."

  Connal lifted his hand again, “Scout's honor."

  This man had never been a scout and he had no honor; all the more reason to keep him away from Felicia. She would have to watch him. “The next time Felicia calls you will make it perfectly clear that you can't go out with her.

  Connal shrugged, “I can do that."

  Margaret knew that he could, she could only hope that he would. “Then it's settled?"

  Connal stood and pushed his fingers into the pockets of his tight jeans. “Not quite, when can I see you again?"

  Margaret dropped back down on the couch. “That's up to you. I had rather we didn't go to a public place.

  Connal sat beside her. “We're going to have fun, Maggie love. You won't be sorry you made this deal."

  She was already sorry. “But don't get any ideas. This will be a purely platonic relationship."

  "You drive a hard bargain.” Connal smiled as he pulled her into a loose embrace. “I have some plans for the weekend."

  He was certainly sure of himself. Margaret pushed back to look up into his face. “You do?"

  Connal's arms tightened. “I'm driving out to Circle C Sunday morning. I want you to come along."

  Sunday evening was a time Margaret had set aside to spend with Todd and Felicia. “I'll have to be home before six o'clock.” She thought, much to her surprise that she just might enjoy seeing Circle C again. “Should I pack a lunch?"

  "Don't bother; the foreman's wife is expecting us. She will make lunch.” He dropped his head and brushed his lips across hers. It was a gentle touching, not aggressive, not invasive, but sweet and oh so tender.

  Much to her shame, Margaret melted. She slid her arms around his neck and moved closer, hungry for more.

  Putting his arms behind his head, Connal caught her wrists with his hands and gently broke the embrace before he stood and sighed, “Good night, Maggie love. I'll see you Sunday morning around nine.” He was out of the room and through the front door before M
argaret could find her voice to respond.

  She sat for a long time staring into the fire and trying to untangle her knotted thoughts. From the first time she had seen Connal standing tall and self assured in the doorway of her uncle's home, there had existed between the two of them a powerful and potent physical attraction. Suddenly Connal's plan became crystal clear. He intended to use that attraction to lure her back into his arm and into his bed. Did he think that she would be that foolish again? Obviously he did. Was he in for a surprise?

  Chapter Four

  Connal explained for the tenth time. “No Dad, I have no interest in a position at your buddy's law firm. When are you going to accept that I have a job?

  Father and son were seated in the elder Cassidy's cluttered office. It was an inner sanctum that was off limits to anyone who didn't have an invitation from C. J. to enter its messy confides and that included his wife Eva. The elder Cassidy hooted, “Me and Rufus Collins being friends don't have nothin’ to do with his wanting you to work at his firm.” He bit down on the stogie that hung from one side of his mouth. “And he's offering you a position, not some panty waist job that has you acting like a fool five days a week in front of millions of people."

  "I'm not interested in a position at the law firm of the shyster you served with in Viet Nam.” Connal glanced at his watch. He was due at Margaret's house in five minutes. He was going to be late again. “I have to run, Dad, see you later."

  C. J. was not about to be dismissed so easily. “Your Mamma wants you home, son."

  If the old reprobate couldn't bribe him, he'd try emotional blackmail. “We can talk about this later.” Once again Connal glanced at his watch. “I have a nine o'clock appointment."

  C.J. raised a shaggy eyebrow. “On Sunday morning, where the hell are you going?"

  Connal didn't want his dad entertaining false hopes. If he knew his son was driving out to Circle C for the day that's exactly what he would do. “I'm going out with a friend."

  C. J. shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth. “Do I know her? Where are you taking her before you check in at the Sunshine Motel?"

  The old fossil always thought the worst. Moved more by pity than by anger Connal replied, “I'm driving out to Circle to spend the day. I'm taking a friend along."

  C. J. leaned back in his chair. “Well, that's more like it. I'm so pleased that I ain't even gonna ask who the friend is."

  That was a relief. C. J. wouldn't like the idea of his son seeing Maggie Donovan even though she was now Margaret O'Neil. Connal hurried toward the door. “I'll be home for dinner.” He scooted down the hall and was out the door before C. J. could ask more questions.

  Fifteen minutes later he pulled into Margaret's drive. She was waiting for him on her front veranda even though an early morning chill still hung in the air. Connal's heart lurched at the site of her. She wore jeans and a little knit sweater that hugged her firm breasts and barely touched the top of her pants. Memories of that sweet summer of his youth crowded into his mind; it had been a magical time. He'd never found that kind of sweet splendor again. He waved and reached across to open the car door.

  Margaret ran down the steps and hurried across the stretch of grassy yard. As she got into the car she complained, “You're late again."

  This was not the way Connal wanted this day to start, “As I was leaving C.J. decided to interrogate me."

  Margaret fastened her seat belt. “How is C. J.?"

  Connal pulled out of the drive and onto the street. “He's as ornery as ever.” He thought that was an unkind assessment of his own father. It was also a valid one.

  Margaret turned to stare at him. “I was asking about his health.” Before Connal could answer, she added, “Be careful Connal that you don't do or say something now that you will be sorry for later.” She was, no doubt speaking from experience. “Take my word for it, there's nothing worse than regretting when it's too late to make amends."

  Connal wanted to say so many things. He didn't know how. Expressing heartfelt emotions was something he'd never been able to do. Pulling onto the freeway he changed the subject as he changed lanes. “How long since you've been to Circle C?"

  Margaret straightened in her seat and sighed. “I never went back after Uncle Jake's funeral."

  Connal had wanted this day to be spent remembering happy times and recalling the sweet grandeur of a perfect summer. Margaret seemed bent on resurrecting the morbid and calling to mind the miserable. As painful as those recollections would be, maybe they needed to get through all the unpleasant events that happened after that enchanting summer in order to find their way back to that place in time. “I didn't know your Uncle Jake was gone until several months after his funeral."

  Once again Margaret turned in her seat to stare at him. “Your parents didn't tell you?"

  "Not for some time."

  Margaret shook her head. “I didn't know that.” She shifted to stare out the window. “I wondered why you didn't write to express condolences."

  Connal could feel her pain. “I did write when I knew. The letter came back marked address unknown."

  "I went away to school a month after Uncle Jake died.” She looked as uncomfortable as he felt. “I didn't come back to Summerville for four years."

  Connal slapped the steering wheel with his hand. “Enough of this morbid talk, let's forget the past, shall we, and enjoy the day?"

  Margaret's smile warmed the empty space around his heart. “Sometimes I envy your ability to live so completely in the moment."

  How little she knew. His façade of indifference covered a multitude of hurts and a massive amount of pain. “Hey, it's the only way to go.” Connal turned off the interstate and onto a farm to market road.

  As they rounded a bend in the road Margaret waved toward the open fields on either side of them “Look, the redbuds are blooming. That means spring is arriving."

  Connal had forgotten how ruggedly beautiful Circle C was in early spring. He felt a sudden connection with this harsh stretch of desolate countryside. “It's nice to be coming home again."

  They were nearing the entrance to Circle C. Ahead loomed a massive two story structure surrounded by numerous outbuildings. Margaret's voice rose in surprise. “The house is vacant."

  Connal drove a cross a cattle guard. “You didn't know?” Of course she didn't know. She hadn't seen the place in eighteen years. “It's been empty since Mom and Dad moved to town ten years ago."

  "That's a shame,” A note of sadness slipped into Margaret's voice. “It always seemed such a perfect place for a family."

  Connal pulled into the horseshoe drive and stopped his car. “You and I spent some happy hours here. Let's go inside and have a look around.” He expected Margaret to refuse.

  Much to his surprise she didn't. “It's been so long.” She got out and slammed the door. “I remember the first time I ever saw this place. Uncle Jake had just picked me up at the bus station. He took me inside and introduced me to Eva and C. J. before we went on to the foreman's quarters. I was already frightened out of my wits and C.J. didn't help matters any."

  Connal got out of the car and hurried to catch up to her. “Did he give you a bad time?” He stepped around Margaret and inserted a key in the front door lock.

  Margaret waited patiently for him to complete his task. “It wasn't intentional, I'm sure."

  Connal wasn't so sure. He opened the door and stepped back, “After you."

  Margaret stepped inside, paused and looked around. “It is strange how time and experience can alter perception."

  Connal followed her into the huge living room. The shades were drawn and the curtains pulled. He hit the light switch flooding the room with a weak artificial light.

  Nostalgia rose in his throat. To cover emotions that he neither anticipated nor appreciated he quipped, “This place is a mess.” And it was. The furniture was hidden by dust covers. Cobwebs hung in all four corners of the ceiling. Dirt dabber's clay homes were fastened to the f
ront of the huge brick fireplace. A fine coat of dust overlaid everything in the room.

  Margaret pushed back the cover from the couch and sat down. “To me there's something sad about a house that once sheltered a family being deserted and empty."

  Once again she was moving into emotional territory that Connal didn't wish to explore. He smiled his most engaging smile. “Wanna go upstairs and look around?"

  Margaret shook her head. “I don't think so."

  Connal sat beside her and stretched his legs out in front of him. “I thought you might want to see if time and experience have changed your perception of my bedroom."

  Margaret smiled. “You do have a one-track mind. And I didn't say my perceptions had changed, I said they'd altered."

  Connal moved a little closer. “Is there a difference?"

  Margaret's smile vanished. After several moments of deep introspection she replied, “For me there is. Change is replacing the old with the new. Alteration is revising and amending the old.” His puzzled blink made her add, “There are some things that you want to hold onto even as you sort through and rearrange them."

  Connal was beginning to wonder if bringing Margaret here had been such a good idea. “I don't know what in the hell you are talking about.” When Margaret opened her mouth to explain he held up one hand. “And I don't want to know.” Standing he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Let's go."

  Margaret pulled back, “Go where?"

  "To C.J.'s hideaway,” He led her toward the library.

  Margaret said as she followed along. “I can remember a time when the library was definitely off limits."

  Connal quickened his pace. “C. J. was fit to be tied when he learned I had stolen his key and had a duplicate made."

  "I can believe that,” Margaret said and then admitted almost reluctantly, “Those were happy times."

  Connal pushed the door with his hand. It opened wide to reveal a dark room with shelves on two walls, a huge oak desk in one corner and a table in the center of the floor. Along the back wall was s a black leather couch. Still holding onto Margaret's hand he stepped inside. “We were such dare devils then, boldly entering forbidden places; so eager to test the limits of an adult world"