“I read about that in my book. It’s a tourist area right?”
“Yeah, there are lots of shops and restaurants. You’ll like it. What book are you talking about?”
I pull out my copy of Best of Dublin from my purse and show it to him. He laughs. “So you don’t trust me to be your tour guide, huh?”
“Oh, stop.” I slap him lightly in the arm. “Of course I do, I thought I’d just learn a bit about Dublin myself.”
“Don’t worry, I’m only teasing. Did you see anything in there that looked good to you?”
“I thought the Irish Museum of Modern Art looked interesting, as well as the National Gallery.”
Declan nods. “We could do those. There are some local galleries that I think you might like too.”
I smile at him. It gives me a warm feeling that he knows me so well.
“And of course there’s The Book of Kells,” he says with authority. “I wouldn’t be doing my duty as your official tour guide if I didn’t force you to go see that.”
“That’s at Trinity College, right? I read about it in my book. Oh, and also I want to check out the Guinness Brewery or Storehouse, as I guess it’s called.”
“Of course, you can’t miss that. That’d be like visiting Seattle and not seeing the Space Needle.”
Eventually Declan finds a parking spot and we get out to walk around. This was definitely a good idea on his part since I’m getting my second wind. I think about how incredible it is that you can be in a place one day and the next day be halfway across the world.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” I say, telling Declan my thoughts.
“Yeah, it I’m glad I live in modern times. Can you imagine how difficult it must have been? I would have gone crazy not traveling anywhere. And just think,” he leans towards me, “then we never would have met.”
“That would have been terrible.” I mean it to come out as a joke, but instead my voice sounds genuinely upset. Embarrassed I stop in front of a bakery and pretend I’m interested in the display.
A lot of the shops and pubs have Christmas decorations. There are lights strung outside some of the buildings like streamers falling. The phrase Nollaig Shona Duit is displayed prominently and I ask Declan what it means.
“Happy Christmas. It’s Irish.”
“I’ve noticed all the street signs have both languages too. Does everybody speak Irish?”
“No, but we learn it in school, so everyone’s familiar with it. Some people speak it fluently, but most people don’t. Not in Dublin anyway. ”
“How well do you speak it?”
He shrugs. “Okay, I guess.”
“I’ll bet you’re fluent.” I know Declan and he never does anything half way. I’m sure his Irish is perfect.
He chuckles. “I was lucky. My grandparents are from the west and they spoke it with us when I was growing up.”
“Say something to me in Irish.”
“You’ve heard me sing Happy Birthday.”
“I know, but that’s different. Say something that’s just regular speech.”
He’s quiet. We’re still standing in front of the bakery window filled with pastries and various cakes, everything done up for Christmas. He turns to me and has a somewhat tender expression on his face. “Tá grá agam duit,” he says softly.
“Wow. Say it again.”
Declan grins and then glances out to the side of the street. He seems kind of embarrassed. When he turns back to me he says it again with more conviction.
“That’s sounds neat. What does it mean?”
“It means....” He glances through the window. “This food looks delicious.”
“Hmm.” I repeat the phrase in my head a few times, figuring it might come in handy.
As we walk around it occurs to me that I’ve never spent Christmas away from home before. Even when I was in college I always flew back to Seattle for the holidays. Surprisingly I don’t feel homesick and instead have this sense that I’m finally growing up. I never thought of myself as someone who was too dependent, but in my own way I’ve been afraid to take risks in my life.
“Do you want to get something to eat?” he asks.
“Sure.”
We find a restaurant in Temple Bar. It has a funky art deco feel with bright red walls and purple furniture. Our waiter has a heavy Slavic accent. After ordering our food Declan tells me how a lot of people immigrated to Dublin during the Celtic Tiger.
“I’m not complaining,” he says. “I understand why they wanted to come here, but it’s been controversial, that’s for sure.”
“What’s the Celtic Tiger?”
He motions his hand around. “The booming economy we had going a while back. Everything you see—modern Dublin—is a result of it.”
“It was software driven, right?”
“An enormous part of it, yes.”
“Did you ever think about starting a business here instead of Seattle?”
He nods, and sits back as the waiter brings us our coffee. “I did, and I believe there’s still opportunity. I was seriously thinking of moving back here, but then things really clicked with Sev.” He picks up his coffee. “Though I’d like to have an office here if things continue to work out in Seattle.”
“Did I tell you that Greg gave me your old job?”
“Did he? It’s about time.”
“I basically forced him to give it to me.” I tell Declan what happened and he nods with approval.
“Good for you. Greg’s a prick. I never liked him. Are you sure you want to stay there? I can’t offer you a big salary, but like I said you could work whatever hours you want.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I can turn that kind of money down.”
Declan nods. “Understandable.”
Our food finally arrives and we both dig into a couple of focaccia sandwiches. It’s like any sandwich I could order from any restaurant in Seattle. When I mention this to Declan he chuckles in agreement.
“Don’t worry, my mother plans to make you some traditional Irish food.”
“What did she say when you told her that you invited me here? Were her and Martin okay with it?”
He nods, chewing a bite of sandwich. “Sure, they were fine.”
I want to ask more questions, but don’t want to appear too nosy. I’m very curious what Nina thinks of my coming here for the holidays. You think she’d be jealous—I know I’d be—but then maybe she’s so secure that it doesn’t even occur to her to feel jealousy.
As I’m finishing my sandwich the exhaustion hits me again and I feel ill. The food is sitting in my stomach like a rock and all I want to do is lie down and go to sleep.
“Do you think it would help if I drank more coffee?” I ask.
“Probably not. You could try it, but caffeine doesn’t usually help me with jet lag. We should walk around some more, maybe head down to St. Stephen’s Green. Keeping busy is what usually helps.”
“Do you think we could go to your house? I feel sick.”
“Of course,” Declan says, concern in his voice. “You know, if you really want to sleep, it’s okay. I don’t want to torture you.”
“I know. I think I’ll be all right if I can lay down for a bit.”
We head back out and I find that walking to the car is helping. The cold air feels good.
“How far away is the house?” I ask after we climb into the car.
“Not far. Dublin is basically divided in two halves by the Liffey—The Northside and the Southside. Our house is in the south and that’s where we are now.”
I nod, leaning my head back onto the seat. I’m so exhausted that even driving on the wrong side of the street isn’t fazing me anymore. It’s like I’m already asleep and the unfamiliar sights of the city have become a part of my dream landscape. Somewhere in there the dream takes over. When I wake up it’s to the sound of Declan’s voice.
“Kate, we’re here.”
“What?” I open my eyes.
“
We’re at the house.”
“Oh.”
“You’re so pretty when you sleep.”
I smile and then turn away feeling embarrassed. Before the plane landed I put on fresh makeup and fixed my hair, but there’s no hiding that I haven’t slept in twenty four hours. When I glance over, Declan is still studying me.
“Shall I carry you inside?”
“Wow, do I really look that awful?”
“Hmm...maybe I should have let you sleep. Then I could have carried you inside and put you to bed without any backtalk.”
“Would you tuck me in?”
“Yeah,” he says softly. “I’d tuck you in.”
Our eyes meet and this time neither of us looks away. Excitement drums through my stomach as he leans in and I suddenly get the feeling he’s going to kiss me. When he’s a few inches away there’s a knock on the driver’s side window and we both jump apart, startled.
Declan turns around. “Ma?”
He rolls the window down. His mom is probably in her early sixties and has blonde hair with some gray mixed in. She’s rounded, but not fat, and is wearing a black sweater with an earth toned skirt.
“You must be Kate,” she says leaning over to peer in through the car window. “I’m Declan’s mother, Marion. It’s good to meet you.” She smiles, and it’s obvious Declan got his fantastic smile from her.
“It’s nice to meet you too” I say, embarrassed. Did she see that he nearly kissed me? I feel like a slut. I also feel guilty coming on to Declan like this when I know he’s involved with someone else. I’m acting just like that skank Heather—God forbid. Then again I can’t believe Declan would allow himself to kiss me if he has feelings for Nina, which gives me a surge of hope.
“Why don’t you two come inside?” She waves for us to get out of the car. “You must be exhausted from your flight.”
Once we’re outside, I take in my surroundings. We’re parked in a long circular driveway with a big limestone house in front. It’s impressive. Declan’s parents live in a ritzy neighborhood. All the houses have stone walls, iron gates, and the appearance of old money. Many of them are decorated for Christmas, though not with as many lights as we do in the states.
Declan grabs my bag from the trunk as I follow his mother inside. She asks about my flight and says there’s a pot of soup on the stove and fresh bread. I tell her that Declan and I ate at a restaurant in Temple Bar, but thank you.
“I have the guestroom all set up for you,” she says and then turns to Declan. “Bring her bag upstairs, would you? Also, there’s a message for you from Danny.”
The inside of the house is nice, but I’m relieved to see that it’s also comfortable. The outside was so imposing I was worried it’d be like some sort of museum and I’d have to tiptoe around never speaking above a whisper. Most of the furniture is modern and I get a glimpse of a big comfy sofa in the living room before we head upstairs. As I’m walking behind his mother I notice all the photographs on the wall. Lots of family pictures and I immediately recognize Declan.
“Is that you?” I stop and point to a school picture of a little boy about ten years old. He has a head of blonde hair and that gorgeous Declan grin.
“Afraid so,” he says.
“Look at all that hair!”
Declan chuckles. “Yes, once upon a time I had hair.”
“This is great. You’re so cute! Where’s this one taken?”
He stands next to me and tells me it was taken on a trip to Galway. I ask about some of the other photos and he explains where they were and how old he was. When we get near the end, I see his mother at the top of the stairs, watching us with approval.
“If you like those,” she says, “I’ve got plenty more for you to look through.”
Declan groans behind me. “Ma, she’s not going to want to look through all my baby pictures.”
“Yes, I want to,” I say immediately, nudging Declan. “Don’t listen to him. I’d love to see his baby pictures.”
His mother laughs. “I’ll find some of the albums for you during your visit.”
I follow her into the guestroom which is decorated with a queen size bed and flowery bedspread, along with an armoire in the corner, and a bookcase filled with knickknacks and a variety of books. The nightstand next to the bed has a vase with fresh flowers. It’s obvious some care was taken to make the room welcoming.
“Thank you,” I say. “This is really inviting.”
“It gets a bit drafty in here at night, but there’s an extra blanket on the bed. If you find it’s too chilly, let me know and I’ll bring in a room heater.”
“I’m sure it will be fine. I sleep better if the room is on the cold side.”
“Me too,” she says confidingly. “I can’t stand a stuffy bedroom. I’d never survive in a hot climate. I always say it’s a good thing I was born Irish, otherwise I’d have spent my whole life miserable.”
I laugh. “I don’t think I’d make it in a hot climate either, now that I think about it.”
“We’ll have Declan give you a tour of the house later. I’m guessing you want to rest now. I know it’s a long journey to get here.” She pauses, lingering in the doorway. “I’m glad you’ll be joining us for Christmas, Kate. Declan always speaks very highly of you.”
“Thank you.” I feel touched. “It’s kind of you to have me.”
When she leaves I look at Declan. “All right, what the heck have you been telling these people about me?”
He pretends to be confused. “I have no idea what she’s talking about. Hang on—I did mention you once—oh wait, that was somebody else.”
“Shut up,” I say with a grin. “You know you worship me, admit it.” I walk over to the bed, kick my shoes off, and flop down. Exhausted doesn’t even come close to describing how tired I am. I don’t think there’s a word in the English language that describes it adequately.
“Shall I go and let you sleep?”
I turn to Declan who’s still standing by the dresser. “I’m really sorry for that business in the car. I know you’re still involved with Nina. I feel embarrassed.”
He comes over and sits down on the bed beside me. He doesn’t say anything for a moment as if he’s thinking it over. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I wanted to kiss you. We’ve been dancing around this for a long time now. Too long.”
“What about Nina?”
He shakes his head. “We’re not involved anymore. I broke it off with her before flying out here.”
“Really? She’s not your girlfriend?”
“No. The truth is I never even slept with her. She wanted more from me than I was willing to give.”
I feel relief wash through me so strong that if I had the energy I’d get up and do an Irish jig.
“What did she say?” I ask, curious how a woman like that deals with rejection. I’m guessing it seldom happens to her.
“She accepted it. Nina’s kind of cold. She seems very self-centered. Suzy’s not that way is she?”
“No, not at all.”
Declan nods. “Anyway, the situation amounted to nothing.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t want her. She’s so beautiful.”
“There’s somebody else I want.”
“Who’s that?”
He smiles and puts his hand out touching my face. “I think you know.”
I smile shyly and neither of says anything more. This time when Declan leans over to kiss me there’s no one to interrupt us and his lips feel tender as they brush over mine. I sense the heat between us, simmering below the surface. When he pulls away, he doesn’t move far, but gazes down at me.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I wake up from a dream where I’m sleeping in a room filled with flowers, and that’s when I remember I’m in Ireland. Yesterday comes back to me in a miasma of surreal images, but what I remember most is that wonderful kiss. We kissed a few more times after the first one, but I fi
nally sent him away. I didn’t want our first make-out session to take place while I was exhausted and sick to my stomach from jet lag. I figured I’d take a short nap and then go join everyone downstairs, but it’s obvious I slept longer than that.
I squint at my wrist watch in the dark, trying to make out the time. It says nine o’clock and after doing the math in my head I think that means it’s five o’clock in the morning in Ireland. Declan was right when he said I should have tried to stay up longer.
I close my eyes in an attempt to fall asleep again, but my mind is too busy. I keep thinking about one of the things my mom said after I told her I was coming here—how she thought Declan would be good for me. I haven’t been with many men who are good for me. Nearly all the guys I’ve dated since Ben have been inconsequential pretty boys.
As I’m pondering this, I hear movement in the house. I listen quietly and when I hear footsteps walking downstairs I figure it’s safe to get up. I grab some clean clothes and my toiletry bag. In the hallway I notice all the other closed doors and wonder which room is Declan’s. Eventually I find the bathroom and then head downstairs, where to my utter delight, I can already smell coffee brewing.
As I wander around searching for the kitchen I admire all the Christmas decorations. Holly is strung up and there’s a slender robed St. Nicholas figurine sitting on a side table. In the living room stands a large tree with an angel on top and gifts beneath it. The house is gorgeous. I had no idea Declan’s family was so well off.
“Good morning, Kate,” Marion says, when I finally find the kitchen. “Would you like some coffee? Or there’s tea if you prefer.”
“Yes, coffee please. That smells wonderful.” I try to get it myself, but she shoos me away and tells me to have a seat at the table. She brings me a cup and I mix in a heavy dollop of cream. “You have a beautiful home.”
“Thank you. It’s a bit large for just Martin and me anymore, but neither of us can bring ourselves to part with it.”
“I don’t blame you. I’m sorry I fell asleep so early yesterday. I meant to come downstairs and be more social.”
She puts a large frying pan on the stove and shakes her head. “Don’t be silly. Obviously you were exhausted. Declan always has terrible jet lag when he flies in. You should see the way he tries to stay awake.” She laughs. “It gets so he’s practically walking into walls.”
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