CHAPTER 16
Patrick
SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGED and I’d been counting on that fact. Being in Ireland again, did me a world of good. Or so I thought. Especially the time I spent in Pubs. Although the cheering I thoroughly enjoyed, I learned more from these chaps than I would ever care to admit.
Sometimes it was good to go back to where you came from, see what you’ve been missing. Or not missing. Those guys were a joke. They never took anything serious, and not a single one went home to his wife before ten o’clock at night. Of the five regulars I saw most often, not a single one was married. They were fifty years too! Living at home with an elderly parent. When I asked a guy who looked like he had two sticks to rub together wearing a nice suit with a bowler hat, why he never got married, he told me a joke.
“Almost did but she was already married,” he slurred. Then he finished his pint and asked for another.
“That’s too bad.”
What else could I say?
“Yeah, I had to go to confession afterward. Told the priest I almost committed adultery, and doesn’t he tell me to explain what almost means.”
I grinned at that.
“So I says to him, well, we got undressed and rubbed together, but then we stopped before I could put it in.”
“Not a sin then,” I observed.
“Oh, it’s a sin, says he. According to the church it’s the same as putting it in. Then he tells me to say three Hail Marys and put a fifty in the poor box.” He took off his hat, placed it on the bar, and scratched his head. “So I took out a fifty, good Catholic like I is, and I rubbed it on the poor box. Well, that got him in an uproar and he runs over to me and says, ‘I saw you! I saw you, Michael O’Donovan. You didn’t put anything in. So I says to the priest, according to you, that’s the same as putting it in.”
The men at the bar burst out laughing and a couple had their own renditions of why they weren’t married too, all of them turning it into some sort of joke.
The more I talked to all of them, the more sick of myself I became. How was it a guy like me, with more brains, more education and, more money than any of these blokes would ever hope to achieve couldn’t keep a woman happy? I did know one thing however, sitting in a pub every night was no way to live one’s life. It’s why I seldom drank. One of the reasons I left Ireland. I’d seen too many of my relatives, my father included, do more of this nonsense than anything else in their lives.
Now I knew what I had to do.
Go home and demand Delila listen to me, and if she didn’t...
I’d just have to try harder.
The next morning I came down to breakfast, filled with new hope and enthusiasm for the future. Nothing was going to get me down. Not the constant rain coming down in buckets. Not the stock market which had taken a dive. Not the fact Delila was thousands of miles away and might not want to give me another chance. Nothing. Because when I made up my mind about something, I didn’t stop until I achieved that goal. I never had and I never will.
When I strolled into the dining room, a large converted library for guests and pampered clients, I was whistling She’ll be Coming Around the Mountain. I’d been watching a children’s show before conking off to sleep the previous evening. Apparently the tune was stuck in my head.
“So there’s himself,” said Brianna, looking lovely as ever. “A good mood so I see.” She gave me one of her radiant smiles as she pulled out a chair for me. I thanked her and sat right down.
Brianna was one of fifty people hired to cook and clean at Lismore Castle and I loved her like the sister I never had. I’d handpicked Brianna just like everyone else I’d ever hired, pulling her out of a risky situation, hopefully for a better life. What I’d found instead, was someone I could confide in and trust, and her me. She’d been there for me when Maggie died and more than once helped me pull Sean out of the gutter. She was terrific and my best friend. Sometimes I worried about her being alone so much in this big place. When I’d voiced my concerns one day, she told me that after coming from a family with twelve siblings, she appreciated the solitude, Besides, I knew her ex-husband wasn’t likely to find her in my castle.
A roaring fire crackled in the hearth. I’d purchased the castle ten years earlier after Takeda Pharmaceutical went public, as a sort of retreat for my board members. Not sure what I was thinking at the time, because it had cost millions to renovate and we’d still not seen a profit, despite the practice of renting rooms to tourists during the Spring and Summer months.
I spread a napkin on my lap, then took a sip of coffee. I listened to the rain pelting the tall stained-glass windows.
“Rising early I see,” Brianna said setting down a bowl of fresh fruit.
“Before lunch this time,” I said.
“Mmmm.” She placed a plate in front of me. The usual. Two eggs, brown toast with jam, and bacon. I loved Irish bacon. It was thick with meat, not like the scrawny stuff they called bacon in the U.S. Now this, I was going to miss.
“Will you be back before dinner?” Brianna asked. She set a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice on the table.
“I will not,” I said, dabbing my mouth with the napkin. “In fact, I’m flying out of Dublin at six.”
I knew Brianna was frowning, even though I hadn’t looked up from my plate. Distracted, I was checking the stocks on my phone with one hand, eating with the other, and trying to figure out why I hadn’t been able to locate my brother .
“That so?” said Brianna. Leaving for America again?” I knew she was fishing as they say, trying to get me to tell her what I was about. I didn’t mind though. As a rule, I was a private person but Brianna was different. She’d become one of my closest friends.
I looked up from my phone. “Time to see a certain lady if you must know.”
“Oh,” Brianna said, sounding surprised. “That so?” She untied her apron and took the seat across from me.
“Gonna pop the question are ye? In Boston are yeh? Or would that be some other worldly place I never been to? Well, it’s about time. It’s been long enough, Patrick. You being single and all. Not good for a man to be alone. Every man needs a good wife and I’m sure she’s a dandy. A real dandy. And when she’s ready to shop for that trousseau, you bring her back to Ireland and her and I will...”
My perfect mood came crashing around my ears. A tiny doubt started to invade. Delila wasn’t even talking to me. How was I going to...?
“Now you just wait right there,” I said. “Who said anything about getting married?”
“But you said... I mean, that is the next logical step. What else you be going back to America after?”
I put my phone down and sighed.
She leaned forward with a huge grin and steepled her hands in front of her face.
“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. She doesn’t actually want to see me.”
“Not see you! Why any woman would have to be daft not to want a man like you, Patty.”
“You say that because I’m paying you,” I said with a chortle, knowing that was a lie. Brianna never said anything she didn’t mean.
She shook her head with a ‘tsk tsk’ sound as the lights from the chandelier sparkled in her green eyes. “Now you tell me why you look so gloomy, Patrick Duffy. Tell me what the trouble is and we’ll work it out right here at this table.” She glanced around the room. “In this grand, grand castle.” The smile on her face broadened.
“You love it here, don’t you?”
“It’s like being Cinderella but without the evil stepmother.”
I took another sip of my coffee and then related the whole romance between Delila and I, minus the things to make her blush. When I’d finally finished the story, she jumped up from her seat, smoothed out her skirt, and held out a hand to me. “Come with me, Mr. Policeman.”
I put down my coffee cup. “What?”
“You and I are going shopping. I’ll get my hat.”
CHAPTER 17
Delila
When I told Susan all I’d learned from Patrick’s brother Sean she was a bit surprised but not really.
“I told you there was something fishy about that lawyer showing up on my doorstep.”
“Yeah, I should have known Patrick paid him.”
“Darn right. The guy was straight out of law school. Tried to tell me he found a loop hole in the law and there was no way they could freeze my assets. Not legally.”
“Maybe he pulled some strings.”
“More like he bribed someone, but a guy like that either had someone behind him.”
“Or he was really, really smart,” I said.
“He wasn’t that smart.”
“No?”
“Delly, he was driving a old Volkswagen.”
“So.”
“With duck tape on the bumper!”
“Oh.
“So you’re telling me that Patrick paid for his services? Not only that, he told him what to do as well?”
“He would know. Yeah.”
“I thought he was a cop.”
“And a lawyer. And a doctor once.”
“Shit, girl! And you let him get away?”
“I know. I’m an idiot.”
Susan threw up her hands. She rolled her eyes at me. “What are you going to do now?”
“Go to Ireland.”
“What? Why?”
“That’s where he is right now.”
SITTING IN LOGAN INTERNATIONAL felt like a death sentence.
My throat felt tight, my stomach twirling like a merry-go-round, and I hadn’t been able to eat anything all morning. To be honest, I was scared to death. Not of flying, nor of setting foot in the country of my birth, but what if Patrick resented that I’d chased him over four thousand miles? He could hate me for all I knew. I was the one who broke it off.
He could be over me too. What if he’d moved to Ireland...to stay, and not for a little retreat like Sean thought? That was a very real possibility. Who knows why he’d moved so many times in the past. I assumed it was for business, but maybe that wasn’t it at all. Perhaps this time he’d had enough of the traffic in this country. Enough of the fast paced lifestyle. Enough of women who tore his heart out. Didn’t appreciate him for the kind sensitive man he obviously was.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I couldn’t blame him if he wanted to get as far away from me as possible.
If he did want to get away from the bustle and hustle of this country though, Logan Airport would have cemented that idea in his head with its vast openness, the thousands of people who traveled in and out, uncomfortable seating, the long lines at Customs. Then I remembered Patrick would be flying business class, not subject to what the rest of us had to endure. If we were together, I would be flying business class with the rest of the perks that went along with having money. If I had a hammer I would have hit myself over the head with it.
When we landed in Dublin, my pulse nearly vaulted out of my chest and my palms grew sweaty. I was here. Patrick was here too.
Somewhere.
Still on the plane, I glanced out the window, seeing three teal Aer Lingus jets with their bright green shamrocks on their tails. I grabbed my bag from the overhead bin and waited for my turn to exit.
CHAPTER 18
Patrick
The airport was nearly empty this morning, for which I was glad of, because I’d planned on writing Delila a letter before my flight to Boston. I wasn’t really sure what to say. I also wasn’t certain whether I was going to stay in Boston or not. I’d already quit my position at the police department, a decision I did not make lightly. Whether I’d met Delila or not. I just didn’t see how arresting people was really changing anyone’s life. Sure, I was making the streets safer, but for how long? Most criminals did not get reformed, so what was the point? I think the death card for me, was when I saw those three girls’ bodies splattered all over the pavement.
Finding the most remote seat in the airport, I took out a pad and pen and started writing:
Dear Delila
My Dearest Delila,
Darling Delila,
None of those sounded right. Finally I just wrote:
Delila,
I’m sorry.
What exactly was I sorry for? Then I remembered something Brianna said. “Men are so daft. We make you miserable and still you don’t know how to make it right. Doesn’t matter what you did, Patrick. You’re sorry it ended, right? And you’re sorry you fought.”
I had to agree with her logic. Thank God I had a smart woman like Brianna on my side. I could use more smart women in my life. Shit, I was so useless.
I stared down at the paper, imagining the smile on Delila’s face when she read my letter. Like Brianna said, how could she resist me after this? My heart sped up a little just thinking about it. How she’d rush back into my arms. I could almost feel her silky hair against my cheek, taste her sweet lips. Feel her breasts pressed to mine. My cock stirred, recalling other things I wanted to do to her.
I tapped my pen on my teeth and then wrote:
To the one I love,
I’m so sorry that we parted. I didn’t want that. I still don’t and if you would give me a second chance...
I crumpled up the paper. Nope. Too needy. Brianna said women don’t like needy. She did, say women loved poetry. Especially recited by the man they love. I wondered if American women, or specifically women who had been Americanized, could be wooed with that sort of thing. I stuffed the paper in the pocket of my pants.
I started again.
To the One I love,
Whenever I try and speak I put my foot in my mouth so please read this poem. I didn’t write it but they’re the words from my heart.
Richard Murphy (1927-)
The dilemma of love!
To think
I must be alone:
To love
We must be together.
I think I love you
When I’m alone
More than I think of you
When we’re together.
I cannot think
Without loving
Or love
Without thinking.
Alone I love
To think of us together:
Together I think
I’d love to be alone.
Please forgive me, my love!.........That part I actually wrote.
I sank back in my seat staring at the paper, proud and happy with my choice of words. Or my choice of someone else’s words. My mood soared all of a sudden. So did my bladder with all the coffee I’d drank this morning.
Then I went through the what ifs. Would she talk to me after I gave this? Could I handle it if she didn’t? I was not one for taking chances. With people, yes, but not when it came to women. Basically I was a shy guy and this was out of my comfort zone. Way out.
I got up, and seeing there wasn’t a soul in sight, I took my suitcase but left the notepad on the seat, thinking it safe to do so.Who would want an old notepad anyway? I headed for the men’s room.
CHAPTER 19
Delila
I’D FINALLY ARRIVED in Ireland and with the time change, I was tired as hell.
As I sat in Dublin Airport, insecurity niggled at my gut. I loved Patrick but... What the hell was I doing? I couldn’t move. I couldn’t move to Ireland.
Not when Susan and the kids were in America. Plus, there was the whole college thing I had going on. I wanted to become a nurse and eventually a Nurse Practitioner. The medical field was a mess in Ireland and I doubted I’d be happy there. Plus I had my job to think about. It wasn’t much, but I liked it. I liked the people. I even made pretty good money for someone with no college degree. Ireland may be where I was born, but America was where my heart was. Just the thought of leaving the U.S forever, had me sweating so profusely, I almost felt sick.
So what now?
Patrick is worth it, I told myself. I couldn’t see myself being happy with anyone else. Wasn’t that worth the move?
I didn’t know what to do so I sent a text to Sean.
Delila: I’m in Dublin.
Sean: Great.
Delila: Send me the coordinates to that castle you said he was staying at. Really? A castle?
Sean: He is.
Delila: He really is rich, isn’t he?
Sean: I told you.
Delila: Not sure I could get used to living in a castle.
Sean: Do you love him?
Delila: What kind of a question is that?
Sean: Well do you?
Delila: Um, maybe.
Sean: Grand. Did you get your rental yet?
Delila: Rental?
Sean: You reserved a car, didn’t you?
Delila: Um...
Sean: Sure you can’t get to the castle without one.
Delila: Um, can you reserve one? For me?
Sean: I be after doing just that.
Delila: Huh?
Sean: Just go the Enterprise booth. A car will be waiting as soon as they open.
Delila: Thanks
When I found the Enterprise booth, I saw that it was all closed up. They weren’t open yet because it was only six a.m. To kill time, I started walking up and down the airport.
The air was dry. I’d had breakfast on the plane, but now I was incredibly thirsty. Add that to the fact, I’d gobbled up all those Irish sausages and we’d jumped over the time zone, my stomach was doing flips.
I’d not slept at all on the plane either. I felt so groggy I couldn’t think straight.
Only one kiosk was open, a Starbucks. I purchased a frappe and sipped on the cool frozen drink while I strolled around the airport. I smelled air conditioning and conveyor belts, bad coffee and stale cigarettes. When I sat in one of the only seats I found available, the smell of an old man’s aftershave beside me, made my nose wrinkle. I moved one seat over glancing across at a little boy sleeping on his mom’s lap.
Memories. Me, as a child holding Susan’s hand as we boarded for America. I was worried about my dog. I didn’t cry about the accident that killed both our parents. Just about the dog. Suddenly sad, but with caffeine now flowing through my blood stream, I stood up and started walking again.
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