Take Me Home KO PL

by Barbara Freethy

  "I always wanted to come here, but there were so many other places to see, too," she said with a smile. "I can't wait to start exploring. The view from the window is amazing—rolling green hills, majestic mountains, the beautiful bay. It's like a picture postcard. Come, see."

  "I'll see it soon enough," he said, grabbing her hand as she started to get up. "What time are we meeting the others?"

  "At nine in the dining room downstairs." She paused, her gaze a bit troubled. "I feel like something is going on with Emma, but I don't know what. She was really quiet on the long flight. Has she told you anything?"

  "About what?"

  "I don't know. She seems kind of—sad."

  He frowned. "I didn't notice."

  "I asked her if everything was all right, and she said it was, but I'm not sure I believed her."

  "Emma is usually open about anything that's bothering her," he commented. "She doesn't usually hold back."

  "Which is what makes this feel different, a little more serious," Maddie said. "You should talk to her, Burke."

  "I will," he promised, thinking that he'd been so self-absorbed the last few weeks he hadn't thought much about anyone but himself.

  "I think it's great that there's just a small group of us on this trip," Maddie added. "Sometimes it's nice to have time with just a few of your family members instead of the whole crowd. I don't think I'd spoken more than three words to Ian before we met at the airport yesterday. He's at family gatherings but never really present, you know? Now, I feel like I'll have a chance to get to know him."

  He nodded. "I agree. I've never felt that close to Ian, either, but I think he's a good guy. He's just a little too smart for me."

  "Says the man who was high school class valedictorian," Maddie teased.

  "There's smart and then there's Ian level smart."

  "Don't forget your younger sister Shayla. She's no slouch when it comes to brains."

  "True."

  "So, what do you think about taking a walk before we meet everyone for breakfast?" Maddie asked. "I'm itching to get outside and discover Ireland."

  "I have a different kind of itch. Why don't you slide under the covers with me?"

  She gave him a mischievous smile. "You think you can impress me more than the view outside?"

  "I can give it a shot," he replied, his pulse already speeding up at the thought. Every time he looked into Maddie's beautiful green eyes, he wanted her more than the last time.

  They'd met in high school but had spent the next fifteen years apart until their paths had finally crossed again, and they'd been in the right place at the right time. Not that their reunion had been without drama, but in the end he'd managed to put a ring on Maddie's finger a year ago. He'd been extremely happy ever since.

  "Care to show me?" she challenged.

  He sat up and threaded one hand through her hair as he brought her face to his and gave her a long, hot kiss that was sizzling with promise.

  She gave him a breathless smile. "That's a good start."

  "Good?" he asked doubtfully. "Let's go for great."

  "At times like this, I do appreciate your desire to be the best," she said with a grin. As he reached for her again, she put a hand on his chest. "But…"

  He groaned. "There's a but?"

  "You know I love being with you, but lately we aren't talking the way we should be. I'm worried about you."

  "I don't want you to worry."

  "And I don't want you to shut me out. You're not on your own, Burke. You like to be strong for everyone, but I want you to know that I can be strong for you. You can lean on me. It's not just your future; it's our future."

  He knew she meant well, but it wasn't her career that was in jeopardy. He'd never wanted to be anything but a firefighter; he didn't know who he would be if he couldn't wear the uniform again. But seeing the troubled look in her eyes reminded him that a few moments ago she'd been a lot happier.

  "Our future can wait until we get home," he said lightly. "Grandma sent me here to distract me. I've decided to go along with the plan."

  She raised an eyebrow. "Really? You've been pretty grumpy about it all so far."

  "I'm here, aren't I?"

  "Your body is. I haven't yet decided about your heart or your soul."

  "Well, since my body is here and yours is, too," he drawled, "how about we get them together?"

  She laughed. "That's a really bad line."

  "But a really good idea," he countered.

  "I agree." She pulled her top over her head and then pressed him back against the pillows as her mouth covered his and her soft breasts hit his chest.

  Maybe Ireland was going to be more fun than he'd thought.

  * * *

  Ireland was colder than he'd anticipated, Ian Callaway thought as he walked briskly down Main Street. He'd woken up early and decided to see a little of the town before meeting his cousins for breakfast. Kenmare had a lot of charm with its narrow streets, colorful buildings, cozy cafés, pubs, gift shops, bookstores and home goods. The people were friendly, too, wishing him good morning in friendly, thick Irish brogues.

  He hadn't really thought much about his Irish roots, but here in the town where his grandmother had been born, he was very aware of his heritage. He was also aware of how far away he felt from the rest of his life, from the work that kept him busy ten hours a day, every day of the week. He was thirty-two years old with several advanced degrees and a decade of work experience behind him. He'd been on a fast treadmill for the last fifteen years. Part of him wanted to get off, but the other part of him had no idea what he'd do if he did. He'd been going from one project to the next for so long, he didn't know how to breathe in between.

  He hadn't realized he was tired until he'd spent eleven hours on a plane yesterday. It was the first time in forever he'd been forced to be still in one place. Not that he hadn't worked on the plane; of course, he had. There was too much to do. He loved science, but all the rest—the red tape, the fundraising, the politics, both corporate and governmental—had taken a toll. Making people's lives better should not be filled with so many obstacles.

  He needed a vacation. He wouldn't have chosen Ireland. He probably wouldn't have chosen now, and he doubted he would have gone anywhere with Emma and Max and Burke and Maddie. He liked them, but as the only single in the group, he felt like a fifth wheel.

  But his grandmother had reeled him in with the promise of a meeting with Seamus Donelan, one of his idols. How could he say no? And it wasn't just the meeting that had made him say yes; it was Eleanor Callaway. His grandmother had always been his kryptonite. She'd been one of the few people in the family who saw past his brain and into his heart.

  He'd been blessed or cursed—sometimes he couldn't decide which—with an extremely high IQ and a passion for learning, which had often set him apart from his siblings and cousins. Except for Shayla, who was a doctor, most of his generation of Callaways were firefighters or in some form of law enforcement or community service. He appreciated all that they did, but he just didn't have a lot in common with them.

  He had a feeling that was another reason why his grandmother had wanted him to come on this trip. She wanted him to be closer to the family than he was.

  As he entered the hotel, the innkeeper Moira Kelly waved him over. A dark brunette in her early sixties with sparkling brown eyes and a friendly smile, Moira had greeted them personally the night before and told them how happy she was to meet more of Eleanor's family. Moira's mother had been good friends with Eleanor growing up, and Moira considered Eleanor a second mom.

  "Good morning. How are you today?" Moira asked.

  "A little cold. I thought it was summer here."

  Moira laughed. "That's Ireland. Our summers can be very cold, but it's supposed to warm up nicely today." She reached under the counter and pulled out a large manila envelope. "Since you're the first one I've seen this morning, I'll give this to you."

  "What's this?" he asked, taking the enve
lope.

  "I don't know what's inside, but your grandmother sent it a few days ago and asked me to make sure you got it first thing this morning. She was very specific in her instructions. It couldn't be last night; it had to be today."

  "Okay," he said, feeling a little wary.

  Moira laughed. "Eleanor always loved surprises. I see that hasn't changed."

  "Apparently not. Everything about this trip has been a surprise."

  "Let me know if you need anything. Remember, you're family when you're here."

  "I appreciate that."

  He walked across the lobby and into the warmly decorated living room. It was furnished with two large couches and a seating area with several small round tables and straight-back chairs. He sat down at one of those tables and opened the envelope. Inside were three smaller envelopes with a name written across each one: Emma, Burke and Ian.

  Setting the others aside, he opened his envelope and took out what appeared to be a handwritten letter from his grandmother.

  My dearest Ian,

  Have I ever told you how much you remind me of my father—your great-grandfather? Like you, Donald Rafferty was a brilliant man. He wasn't just smart; he was also intense. He wanted to change the world, and while he didn't think he was particularly successful in that regard, he had a reach that went well beyond the Irish shores.

  My father taught math and physics at the local high school. He opened the minds of so many children, some of whom went on to do amazing things. One of those students was the man I mentioned to you, Seamus Donelan. I like to think that some of the magnificent work Seamus has done in his life was due to my father's influence on Seamus when he was a boy.

  Like my father, I know you will change the world, Ian, not just in every way you've ever imagined but in ways you'll never expect. I am so proud of your accomplishments, dear Ian. But it isn't just your brain that makes you special; it's your heart, too. I don't think you know that yet, but I hope one day you will.

  I've arranged for you to meet with Seamus at noon today. If you go a bit early, you can catch one of his classes at the Waterford Institute of Technology. When you come back to Kenmare after your meeting, I hope you'll also take a few moments to visit the high school on Bramley Road where your great-grandfather taught and where I went to school. It's small, but sometimes the smallest things are the most important.

  I may not be as smart as you, Ian, but I know one very important truth. Life is not just in the end result but also in the journey. Don't forget to take a breath and look around every once in a while.

  Forever love, Grandma.

  Ian felt an unexpected knot in his throat as he refolded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. He hadn't known his great-grandfather taught math and physics, and he certainly hadn't known that Seamus Donelan had been his student.

  But what had moved him most about the letter was how well his grandmother knew him. Her last comment about life not being in the results but in the journey had struck a chord. Over the years, in pursuit of every goal, he'd told himself that the results were what mattered, what changed lives, what made a difference, but was that really true?

  He frowned, wondering how he could think it wasn't true.

  Ireland was already messing with his head. If he had any sense, he'd be on the next plane home. But, of course, he couldn't do that, not without hurting his grandmother, and that was something he would never do.

  "Ian?"

  He looked up to see Emma and Max coming into the lounge.

  "Good morning." As he got to his feet, he thought Emma looked a little tired. Jet- lagged, maybe, but there was also a tension in her blue eyes that seemed to be present a lot these days. He might not interact with all of his cousins, but he was observant, and he'd wondered what was going on with Emma even before this trip. But he hadn't asked. Asking questions usually meant people then felt free to ask him questions, and he rarely got on that ride.

  "You're up early," she commented.

  He shrugged. "I don't need a lot of sleep."

  "What's that?" She tipped her head toward the envelope on the table next to him.

  "Grandma sent each of us letters. Moira said she was instructed to deliver them to us today."

  "Really? Did you read yours? What did Grandma say?"

  "She told me her father taught math and science at the local high school and that Seamus Donelan was one of his students. She set up a meeting with him for me at the Waterford Institute of Technology, and she asked me to also stop by the high school where our great-grandfather taught. I suspect your letter has a different itinerary." He handed her the manila envelope and the letters addressed to her and Burke. "Would you mind giving Burke his letter? I think I'm going to take off now."

  "What about breakfast?"

  "I'll get something on the way. It's a three-hour drive to Waterford, and I don't want to be late."

  "Are you taking the rental car?"

  He thought for a moment. "Good question. I don't want to leave you without wheels. Maybe I'll see if I can rent another car here in town."

  "Okay. It probably would be good for us to have a car, too. But if you need it, you should take it." As she finished speaking, her gaze moved down to her letter, but she made no move to open it.

  "Aren't you going to read it?" he asked, curious about her reluctance.

  Emma frowned. "I don't know if I want to."

  "Why wouldn't you want to?" he challenged.

  "What's wrong, Em?" Max asked, also surprised at Emma's reaction.

  "I have a weird feeling." She looked from Max to Ian. "Was your letter personal? Was it like Grandma was saying good-bye or something? I don't know if I want to be sad right now. We just got here. I want to explore and have fun and be happy."

  "It was personal, but it didn't feel like good-bye; it felt more like hello, like she wanted me to get to know her in a different way."

  Relief filled her eyes. "That doesn't sound bad."

  "Why would it be bad?"

  "Sometimes Grandma sees things I don't want her to see."

  He knew that feeling, but he wondered what Emma was worried about. "Like what?"

  "Never mind. I'm rambling about nothing."

  He doubted it was about nothing, but he was eager to get on the road. "Let's meet for dinner. I'll touch base when I get back."

  "Sure. Have a good day, Ian."

  "You, too."

  Three

  After Ian left, Emma suggested they go into the dining room and get a table while they waited for Burke and Maddie to come downstairs. After they sat down, she ordered juice and coffee, her gaze continually drifting back to the letter she'd set down next to her fork. She wanted to read it and at the same time she didn't.

  "It's not going to bite you," Max said. "Do you think she's going to tell you some truth about yourself? Because I don't think you have to worry. You're pretty self-aware, Em, and you're pretty open about what's going on in your life."

  Normally, that was true, but in the past few months, the pain of trying to have a baby and not being successful had made her more guarded, more wary, and definitely more fragile. She felt as if she teetered on the edge of a breakdown just about every day, which was unlike her normally confident, upbeat self.

  She'd shared some of her feelings of disappointment and frustration with Max, but not all of them. The two miscarriages she'd gone through had hurt him, too, and making him have to cheer her up when he was feeling down didn't feel fair. She was strong enough to carry her share of the burden—at least, she should be.

  "Ian said it wasn't good-bye," Max added. "If that's what's still bothering you."

  "My letter is probably different than his. Otherwise, she would have written one letter to all of us. And Ian isn't the most emotional person in the family, so I'm not sure I trust his perspective." She let out a heavy sigh. "I just want this trip to be happy. I want to feel joy. I want to feel like my problems are on the other side of the ocean."

  "I want
you to feel that, too," Max said seriously. "It's been a while since I've seen joy on your face, babe. I wish I could find a way to make you feel better."

  "You're great, Max. And I'm fine," she said, downplaying her mood.

  "You're not fine. You haven't been for some time."

  "Well, I'm trying."

  "What are you worrying about—besides that letter?" he asked.

  "Nothing."

  "Emma, come on. Talk to me."

  "There's nothing new to say. You know I'm concerned that I'll never be able to carry a child."

  "The doctor says you can."

  "The doctor says she doesn't see any reason why I can't. That's different than saying I can. But I don't want to talk about all that right now," she added hastily. "We're in Ireland, and that's amazing. I get to see where my grandmother grew up. I get to meet her friends and my extended family on the Rafferty side. It's all going to be good."

  "It will be good, Emma, and I'm not just talking about this trip. Whatever happens, we have each other. That's all we need."

  He made it sound so simple, as if not having children was really an option, but she couldn't imagine not being a mother, and she couldn't imagine depriving Max the opportunity of being a father.

  If she were the one with the problem, Max could move on. He could marry someone else. He could have kids of his own. She'd hinted at that idea once, but he'd gotten angry and told her she was out of her mind. It was what she'd wanted him to say, but still she wondered…and she worried…and her thoughts just kept spinning around the same exhausted track.

  "Emma, look at me." Max covered her hand with his.