It was hard to argue with Fiona's wisdom. "But don't you think that he owes me an apology as well?"
"Yes, he does. You both do. So do it and be done with it. Why waste time being miserable?"
"Because that's what artists do, duh," Aislinn laughed at her.
She was right though, Aislinn thought as she settled back into silence. Why waste time being miserable indeed?
Chapter Forty-One
Her shop looked barren, its walls bereft of paintings. Aislinn closed the door behind her and went inside, tossing her bags on her desk before walking in a circle around the empty shop.
The room seemed to echo the emptiness she felt inside and she realized how much she had gotten used to hearing Baird's voice every day. It was like a light had extinguished in her soul.
With a shake of her head, she snagged her luggage from the desk and ran up the stairs to her bedroom. All Aislinn wanted to do was not think about anything for a moment and slip beneath her covers for a good solid nap.
"Oh, yeah, this is what I need," she murmured to herself as she stripped down to her tank and underwear and slid beneath the cool sheets. In a matter of moments, the exhaustion finally caught up with her and she slipped into sleep.
A pounding on the back door awoke her. She sat straight up and for a moment, couldn't remember where she was. The room was dark and as she whipped her head around, she remembered that she was in her own bed.
"Coming!" Aislinn shouted down and flipped on the light by her bed. She bent over the side of the bed and snagged her jeans. Grabbing a sweatshirt from a coat hook by her bed, she pulled it over her head and tossed her curls back, allowing them to tumble down her back.
Aislinn padded down the stairs and opened the door a crack, peeking out into her back courtyard.
Nobody was there.
"Hello?" Aislinn called and stepped onto her back stoop.
Her heart skidded and skipped a beat as she saw a single red poppy sitting on her picnic table. Aislinn's breath hitched and she stepped further into the courtyard.
"Baird?"
Silence greeted her words and that is when she saw the second poppy. This one lay on the ground, a few feet from the table. Confused, Aislinn walked closer and saw another poppy a few feet further from the second. Bending to pick up the first two, she moved closer to the third, bent to pick it up, raised her head and saw another at the open gate to her courtyard.
The gate was never left open, she thought, and scurried to close it, picking up another poppy on the way.
As her hand fell on the smooth wood of the gate, she saw another poppy a few feet out. Aislinn leaned over the gate and tilted her head to see a row of poppies lining the sidewalk and disappearing around the corner.
A laugh, bordering on slightly hysterical, broke from her lips and Aislinn raced down the sidewalk, bending to collect the flowers, following her heart as she raced down the flower trail that Baird had left for her. The flowers wound down the sidewalk in front of her store and as she brought her head up, she realized that they ran all the way into the village. She began to laugh harder as she saw people looking at the flowers and at her in confusion.
Not caring, she began to run, stopping to scoop up the flowers, following the path that Baird had left for her, down to the harbor, past Flynn's restaurant until she found the last flower. Panting, she looked around for the next flower, for a clue, for something.
Aislinn turned in a circle, her arms full of flowers, and then she saw it.
Like a punch to the gut, love overwhelmed her. She sobbed into the flowers, so happy, wanting desperately to see Baird.
Above her, in the second-floor windows that ran the length of Baird's apartment, were her paintings, facing out and lit from below.
The Revelation.
They looked glorious in the windows, with the lighting playing off the waves that both ravaged and loved the painting. He'd bought it. Baird had been the buyer. Aislinn's breath shuddered out of her and she tried to wipe the tears from her face with her arms full of flowers.
"I get it now," Baird's voice said from behind her and Aislinn's entire body stiffened. She turned, her heart full of hope.
"The glow?" Baird gestured to the painting. He looked tired, just as weary and mussed as she probably looked, Aislinn thought. She wanted to run to him, to hug him, but she sensed he needed to have his say.
"Yes?"
"It's true love, isn't it? The cove glows for true love."
Aislinn's eyes filled with tears again and she blinked against them, Baird turning into a blurry image of color and shape.
"I believe in you, Aislinn. I believe in us. But, I have to ask you, do you?"
Aislinn choked out a sob, and nodded. "I do. I don't think that I fully realized it until I painted this painting. And even then, it wasn't until it was gone that I did. I painted my emotions without being able to see them."
"But you knew…didn't you? What the cove glowing meant?"
"I did. I didn't want to believe it. Wasn't ready to," Aislinn whispered, her body trembling, feeling awful for not telling Baird how she felt.
"Are you ready now?"
"I am, oh, Baird, I'm so sorry. I should have known you wouldn't hurt me like that," Aislinn said and rushed to him, wanting to shout in joy when his arms came around her, crushing the flowers between them.
"I should never have emailed Matthew in the first place. It was a lesson in not needing to know all the answers right away. If I had just waited, I would have had all the answers I needed."
Aislinn blinked up at him through tears and warmth spread through her as he brushed the gentlest of kisses across her lips.
"Can you tell how I feel? Can you?" Aislinn asked, pulling his hand to touch her heart beneath the flowers.
Baird laughed at her. "The Revelation told me everything that I need. Aptly named, at that." He winked at her and then his face sobered. "Feel me, Ash. Go ahead."
Aislinn dropped her mental shields and allowed his love to wash over her, a pure, fresh love that would tarnish and grow stronger with age. The type of love you built a foundation on and would hold up over the years.
The perfect kind.
"I love you," Aislinn whispered against his mouth.
"Aye, I know," Baird laughed at her and Aislinn felt her heart grow fuller for it.
"I'm going to have to buy that painting back from you," Aislinn said, putting her business face on.
"We'll talk."
Epilogue
Aislinn laughed as Morgan lectured a client on not touching the paintings. The girl had proved invaluable in business and Aislinn's career as an artist was thriving.
After the show, there had been such a demand for her paintings that she had agreed to license prints of her work to Red on Green Gallery. The prints had taken off and now she was selling around the world. She'd made more money in a month then she had over the past five years. For once, Aislinn was being smart and squirreling her money away. Her dream was to turn her apartment into a studio and to buy a place nearby.
Or even move in with Baird, she contemplated as she pawed through a folder of black-and-white photographs that she needed to frame. The relationship had blossomed into a full-fledge partnership and they spent their days discussing business, making love, and arguing about how much money Baird would sell The Revelation back to her for.
He was still holding out, she thought with a sniff, though it secretly pleased her that he wanted to keep the paintings.
"Ash, come out here," Baird called from the courtyard.
"Be back in a bit," Aislinn called to Morgan.
She stepped into the sunshine, though a chill had taken over the air. Baird looked every inch the Dr. Yum that Cait still called him in a button-down plaid shirt and dark jeans. He still wore the glasses and Aislinn always did her best to rumple his perfect hair at every chance she got.
"Hi," Aislinn said, beaming up at him.
"Hi, yourself," Baird said and tapped her nose with an envel
ope he held. "Come for a little stroll with me?"
"Sure," Aislinn said, slipping her hand into his. He tugged her out of the courtyard and across the street to the house next door to her shop. Stopping suddenly, he turned to the front door of the house and raised his hand to knock.
"Baird, the Murphys moved out a month ago," Aislinn said, pulling his arm to stop him from knocking.
Baird turned and smiled at her and opened his palm to show a key. Aislinn tilted her head at him in confusion as he slipped the key in the lock and pushed the bright red door open.
"Come on," Baird said.
"Can we be in here?" Aislinn whispered, not wanting to get in trouble.
"Yes," Baird said simply and led her through a small front foyer to where the first floor opened up into one room, including the kitchen. Aislinn's mouth dropped open.
"What's happened in here? This used to be a bunch of smaller rooms."
"Aye, I had it opened up," Baird said simply and Aislinn turned to him in confusion.
Her mouth dropped open as she saw what stood behind him.
"The Revelation," Aislinn breathed.
It was hung on a long cream brick wall, looking as though it was made for the space, it fit so perfectly. Aislinn whipped her head around to Baird.
"I don't understand. Are you renting?"
Baird handed her the envelope. Aislinn opened it and unfolded the paper. It was a copy of a deed with Baird's name on it.
"You bought it?" Aislinn said, her voice rising to a screech.
"For us. If you'll move in with me."
Aislinn's mouth dropped open and her throat went dry, just for a second.
At her silence, Baird began to stammer, "See, I figured you would like the open space like this, and that you could use the apartment in your old place for a studio. There's a few bedrooms up top and a nice little courtyard. Easy commute to work." Baird shrugged his shoulders and then let out an "oof!" as Aislinn launched herself at him, wrapping her legs around his waist.
"You bought me a house?"
"Us, I bought us a house," Baird clarified with a smile.
"It's perfect," Aislinn breathed against his lips and Baird chuckled.
"Thank God, as I don't think that I can return it."
******
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Author's Note
On a warm, sunny day over a year ago, my husband and I hiked up The Saint's Path located on Mt. Brandon in Dingle, Ireland. The Stations of the Cross lined the path and led to the highest point of the peninsula. At the top, the winds were fierce and the view almost heartbreaking in its staunch beauty.
Days later, I awoke to the bells of the Christchurch Cathedral in Dublin, in a lovely hotel room. A dream tugged at my mind. So powerful, so insistent, that for the first time in my life, I was compelled to write my dream down, worried that I would lose the threads of the story that had captivated me in my sleep.
Over the last few days of our trip, I babbled incessantly to my ever-patient husband as he politely listened to me play with characters and plot.
Soon, my dream had expanded from one book into a five book series.
Sometimes, you just have to follow that moment. That brief hint of inspiration that lights you up inside. That…something…that keeps niggling at your brain. The Mystic Cove books are those stories. The ones that I think about when I'm doing yoga or in the yard playing with my dogs. The ones that make me ache to return to the shores of Dingle and spend many a day soaking up the beauty and charm that the small village has to offer.
Thank you for taking part in my world, I hope that you enjoy it.
Please consider leaving a review online. It helps other readers to take a chance on my stories.
As always, you can reach me at [email protected] or feel free to visit my website at triciaomalley.com.
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Author's Acknowledgement
First and foremost, I would like to thank my husband for his unending support as I pursue this wildly creative career of being an author. It isn't easy to watch someone follow the creative path, and uncertainties are rampant. Josh, thanks for being my rock.
I'd like to thank my family and friends for their constant support and all of my beta readers for their excellent feedback.
Thanks to Emily Nemchick for her excellent editing services and to Alchemy Book Covers for their stunning cover designs.
And last, but never least, my two constant companions as I struggle through words on my computer each day – Briggs and Blue.
Wild Irish Soul Page 18