My hand gripped around Padraig’s leg as the house fell into complete silence, and with those final words rampaging through my mind like a trio of angry bulls, I no longer felt the least bit tired.
❧
It was a quarter after ten when I finally woke for the day. I guessed I must’ve passed out after an hour or so of anxious thinking. Padraig was whining, nudging my cheek with his big wet nose, and after I’d shoved him away a fourth time, I rolled myself into a seated position. I listened to the noises of the house: footsteps coming down the hall, a bit of clatter coming from downstairs, voices.
There is a shame in waking up as a guest in someone else’s house. An awkwardness of not knowing what to do, where to go, or what to say.
“Should’ve stayed in a bloody hotel,” I said to Pad, as I got myself out of bed and grabbed some clothes from one of my suitcases. I needed to shower, but I’d figure that out after getting Pad outside. I grabbed his lead and fastened it to his collar.
He pulled me out the door and down the stairs, and I was impressed with his swiftness in learning the house’s layout. I wasn’t even that good, as he steered me toward the kitchen, where he immediately greeted Helen, Kinsey and all three of Paddy’s daughters.
“Oh!” Helen exclaimed from the sink, as the giant dog bumped his whole body into her side. She smiled and ruffled her hand over the crown of his head as he looked up at her with a grin. “Padraig, lovely to see ya, dear. Did ya sleep well?” She looked up at me and smiled. “How ‘bout you, Malachy?”
I nodded graciously. “Very well, thank ya.”
“Kinsey, we have to get Daddy to get us a dog just like him,” Meghan said, coming over from the table to kneel beside Padraig.
“Yeah, good luck with that, kiddo,” she replied, rocking a small baby in her arms. “Malachy, you haven’t met Alannah yet.”
“I haven’t.” I walked to stand beside her at the table.
“Would you like to hold her?” she asked, looking up at me, and I had to coach myself not to choke on my own saliva.
I didn’t want to say no, but I also couldn’t remember a single moment in my life where I had held a baby, and I was terrified. “Ehm, I don’t know,” I said, and Kinsey smiled knowingly.
“You’ve never held a baby,” she realized, and Helen turned from her dish washing to gape at me.
I chuckled. “Well, no. I’ve never really been in a position to.”
“Well, this is the perfect place to start, when they’re not big enough to squirm and get away from you,” and Kinsey stood up, holding the baby out to me.
Meghan came to stand next to me. “You have to do this,” she instructed, forming a cradle with her arms, and I smiled.
“Like this?” I asked as I copied, with total cluelessness, and she nodded, pleased with her abilities to instruct.
Kinsey was smiling as she placed the tiny baby Alannah into my arms, and I hoped they hadn’t heard my small gasp at the weight of her. I stiffly held her against me, forgetting entirely that Padraig needed to empty his bladder until he finally whined his protest. I shot my gaze to him and Meghan jumped at the opportunity.
“Can I take him out?” she asked eagerly, and I winced.
“He’s mighty big,” I warned, stating the obvious.
“Please,” she pressed, bouncing on the spot, and I chuckled.
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” and with that, she was grabbing his lead from the floor and pulling him to the backdoor. Kinsey glared up at me, and I chuckled gently at the worry in her eyes. “They’ll be okay. Pad doesn’t move too quickly.”
Reluctantly relaxing, she sat back down to continue feeding Erin, and I was left to a quiet moment with Alannah. Her big eyes staring up at me, her little hands folded into the clothes that seemed three sizes too large for her tiny frame. She made soft sounds as she breathed, little whines, opening and closing her mouth without reason, and I couldn’t help but smile.
There was something wondrous in holding her. This little person, with personality brewing behind her eyes. It struck me that, if my relationship continued with the family, she would never remember a time when I wasn’t involved. Her, Erin and little Axel, Ryan and Snow’s son. They would always know me, if they’d have me.
“She likes ya,” Helen said, drying her hands. “You’re a natural.”
I snorted around a laugh. “Hardly.”
Kinsey shrugged. “She hasn’t cried yet, so that’s something.”
Paddy came in through the backdoor and lowered his brows at the sight of me. Pointing, he growled, “You. You’re the one that told Meghan it was fine to walk the dog?”
My stomach lurched. “Ehm … yes?”
“Ya realize I’m never gonna hear the end of this dog shite now?”
With a laughing grin, I shrugged. “Sorry.”
Kinsey shook her head. “Patrick, you’ll need to cave eventually, and honestly, I don’t—”
Bending over and locking her against the table with his arms, he challenged, “Ya don’t, what?”
Sighing as she unsuccessfully tried to shove him away, she continued, “I just don’t understand why you’re so against it. I had a dog growing up, and—”
He shushed her with a kiss. “I’ll be the one takin’ care of it, ya realize? And it’d be my luck that ya both would choose a feckin’ girl.”
I laughed at that. “For someone surrounded by females, I’d think ya’d be fine with a lady dog too.”
Paddy stood up to glare into my eyes. “That’s exactly why I’d want a male dog,” he said, his eyes glinting with laughter. “Either that, or I have to get her pregnant with a boy. I need some damn testosterone in my house. This shite is killin’ me.”
Kinsey groaned. “Uh-huh. You keep saying that.”
He noticed the baby in my arms and smiled. “Ya look good with a kid.”
Alannah’s hands jerked, her fingers stretched, and I stared at the sheer tininess of her. All of those little joints and fingernails. Her eyelashes and nose. She was honestly bloody perfect in every sense of the word.
“She’s a good one,” I said, smiling down at her, as though I’d know the difference.
“Great. You can move in and deal with her at two in the mornin’ when she wakes me up screamin’ like a feckin’ banshee,” Paddy said, clapping my shoulder.
“He says, as though he’s the one that gets up to feed her,” Kinsey grumbled, glancing up at him.
“Well, if I had tits—”
“Patrick Travolta Kinney!”
“What?” Paddy turned to glare incredulously at his mother while my eyebrows shot upward, and I nearly dropped his daughter.
“Travolta? Like …”
He sighed. “Uh-huh.” Kinsey tucked her lips between her teeth as he continued, “Mam’s a big Grease fan, and thought it’d be awesome to ruin my life a little.”
“Oh, will ya stop? It’s unique,” Helen insisted, reaching up to pat the side of his cheek.
“That’s one word for it,” he grumbled with a shake of his head.
“What are Ryan and Sean’s middle names?” I asked, rocking my arms absentmindedly.
“Seamus and Fintan,” Paddy said in a low voice that rivaled a growl, his glare aimed right at his mother.
Helen waved her hands at him. “It’s a fine name. Imagine how many Ryan Seamus’ and Sean Fintan’s there are in the world. You are the only Patrick Travolta. My special boy.”
The banter between mother and son continued with eye rolls from Patrick and under-breath giggles from Kinsey, and I drifted to somewhere euphoric and strange with that baby in my arms. Rocking her gently, she fell into a nap with her soft eyelids shut and her little mouth open. She snored, barely heard over the middle name debate from her father and grandmother, but I was listening. Absorbing all those little pieces of her as I looked down at her angelic face, wondering where she went when she slept as the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile.
“I think Mal’s in love,�
� Kinsey cooed, finally putting an end to their conversation.
“What?” I looked up and saw three pairs of eyes aimed directly at me. My whole body tensed, realizing I was now the focal point of the room, and I cleared my throat. “She’s a real treasure.”
The compliment to her parents was awkward and not at all what I had wanted to say, but with grateful smiles, they took it as I handed Alannah back to her mother. Very carefully, as to not wake her, and Kinsey smiled up at me.
“You wanna come by every night and get her to sleep?”
I laughed, embarrassed and flustered, and gripped my perspiring neck with an equally clammy hand. “Ah, it was a fluke thing. Next time she sees me, she’ll scream bloody murder.”
“Maybe,” Kinsey said, with an all-knowing smile, “or maybe you’re just good with babies.”
There had never been a moment in my life where I would’ve considered that a possibility: being good with babies. My experience with them, and children altogether, was limited and there had been no time to hone my skills in handling them. But in the hours since meeting the Kinney family, I’d surprised myself more than once with the hidden abilities I apparently possessed, and handling kids was only the tip of the iceberg.
CHAPTER EIGHT |
RAINY DAYS & FAMILIAR FACES
MALACHY
Monday morning rolled around and brought with it a crisp October rain. I smiled at the familiarity of the dreary day, and decided to take myself for a walk with Padraig. Collin and Helen had offered to accompany me, but with a little guilt, I told them I didn’t want them getting themselves cold in the rain on my account.
Really though, I was just craving the solitude I had grown so accustomed to over the years.
You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.
River Canyon really was a quaint little place and even on a rainy day, it seemed to have bottled up enough sunshine to keep the townsfolk happy to see each other. The Irish are miserable people by nature, but even I was greeting strangers with smiles as I turned the corner toward the strip of shops.
Stopping outside a coffee shop, I decided it was only right to start my day off with a cup. I apologetically tied Pad up to a bicycle rack under an awning, with the promise I’d be right back. As soon as I walked inside, a guy of around my age pointed toward the door, and grabbed my attention.
“Hey,” he said, “you can bring your dog in here, man. You don’t have to leave him out there in the rain.”
“Are ya sure?” I asked, glancing around the dark and moody establishment and seeing immediately that it was my kind of place.
“Hell yeah. Right, Ky? He can bring the dog in?”
A purple-haired woman behind the counter replied with an “oh my God, it’s pouring out there, bring him in,” and so I happily went back outside to untie Pad. Grateful, yet glaring at me with the feeling of being abandoned, we walked inside and the guy pulled himself from his chair to pet him.
“What’s his name?”
“Padraig.” I winced, as Pad decided that would be the perfect moment to shake himself dry. “Sorry.”
This friendly stranger grinned as though the splatters of water against his pants were a daily occurrence. “It’s fine. I’m heading to work soon anyway, and I’m just gonna get soaked there.”
With the invitation to continue, I asked, “What do ya do?”
“Construction,” he said, and he offered a sturdy hand. “Devin.”
“Malachy,” I replied, and we shook.
“Nice to meet you, Mal. You’re new around here, aren’t you?”
There it was, that nickname again. The one I hadn’t been called since my mother passed on. It seemed to come naturally to these people. All of them addressing me in a comfortably casual way, and I couldn’t help but smile at the feeling I had missed. The homey feeling of hearing that name.
“I’m just visiting,” I said, downplaying my situation greatly.
Devin nodded his understanding. “So, you have family in the area.”
My gaze shifted down to Padraig as he settled on the dark, wooden planks. His head rested on his paws and he sighed contentedly. “Ah, well, not exactly,” I answered with a quirk of my lips, wishing I could comfortably say yes.
His brown eyes narrowed with skepticism. “Not many people come here unless they have family to—”
The purple-haired Kylie came over to press a hand to his chest as she handed me a mug. “Don’t let him interrogate you. Here, you look cold. Can I get some water for your dog?”
I smiled, accepting the cup. The warmth seared through to my palm, and I welcomed it with a relieving sigh. “Thank you. How much do I owe ya?” I asked, reaching for my back pocket and my wallet, as the cup raised to my lips. I took a sip—coffee, sweetened with something. Vanilla, maybe, or caramel.
“Oh, stop, it’s on the house,” she insisted, flipping her hand dismissively.
I took another sip and closed my eyes to savor the smooth, rich flavor. “Are ya sure? This might be the best coffee I’ve ever had. Feels like robbery to not pay ya.” But she shook her head as she walked back to the counter, grabbing a bowl to fill with water for Pad.
For fifteen minutes, Devin and Kylie asked me questions about where I was from. I thanked my telltale Dubliner accent for giving me away, and they accurately guessed that I was paying the Kinney family a visit. Kylie asked how I knew them and what was I supposed to say? These friendly people knew Collin, Helen and their sons, and what if they didn’t care to admit to the townsfolk that there’d been a bastard son wandering the planet for forty years?
So, I smiled and said I was just a relative visiting from Ireland.
A tinkling bell above the door announced the arrival of a hooded woman donning a pair of sunglasses, despite the lack of sun in the gray sky. Kylie hurried behind the counter, stationing herself at the register, and Devin bid me a good day with a grin and a clap of his hand against my back.
“You should stop by on Wednesday night,” he mentioned before leaving. “I’ll be here playing my guitar, if you’re interested.”
I nodded with a smile. “Sounds great.” And with that, he headed out into the rain.
My coffee was gone, so I looked out into the watery world outside. The bustling of strangers on the footpath and a gleaming wet statue of an old-time soldier in the park across the road. I considered leaving, heading back to Collin’s house, or perhaps exploring a bit before making my way back. But it was the nature of my job to listen, and my ears pricked at the familiar sound of the woman’s voice.
“I’m a blogger at Emma’s Eats & Treats, and I’m on the hunt to find the best independent coffee shop in Connecticut,” she said, pulling her hood from her head, and I watched her back as my lips curled into a genuinely happy smile.
“Oh, cool!” Kylie exclaimed, grinning excitedly.
Emma Bryan, food-slash-lifestyle blogger, bobbed her head firmly. “I’ve known of your shop for a while, but have never stopped in until today. I was hoping to get your permission to review it in an upcoming article.” She hoisted her heavy-looking purse onto the counter top, and pulled out an iPad as Kylie agreed with an enthusiastic glint in her eye. “Excellent. If you’d just sign here,” she handed over the iPad, “that’d be great. This is basically a consent form, stating that I’ve received formal permission to use your name and establishment in a public forum.”
“Wow, you’re thorough.” Kylie reached over the counter to sign with her finger. “Okay, what can I—”
“I’ll need what you believe is your best coffee and, hmm, do you make your own pastries here?”
Kylie glanced at the illuminated glass case, displaying a variety of little cakes. “Um, well, we outsource from Patty’s Cakes across the street, and—”
“Oh,” Emma said shortly. “I’ll need to get their consent as well then.” And she sighed exhaustedly, stuffing the iPad back into her oversized purse. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, but could you please keep your best table open for me?
I’d like to get the most out of my experience.”
Glancing into the otherwise empty coffee shop, Kylie said, “Uh, I don’t think that’ll be a problem at this hour.”
“Thank you very—” Emma’s vocal chords stopped working as she turned and took in the sight of me, standing beside the now sleeping Padraig. Her hand pressed to her chest as her lips formed a frozen O.
“Emma Bryan,” I said with a smile and a tip of my head. “Lovely to see a familiar face.”
“Malachy,” she uttered breathlessly, her professional demeanor fading with her friendly smile. “You didn’t tell me you were coming to River Canyon. I’m not far from here; I could’ve given you a ride from the airport.”
“I don’t think ya could’ve managed with Padraig here,” I replied with a hearty chuckle, nudging the sleeping dog gently with my foot.
“Maybe I drive an eighteen-wheeler,” she offered, hoisting the big bag further onto her shoulder.
“Well, do ya?”
There was that laugh. That weird thing through her nose. Yet it didn’t irritate me nearly as much as it had on the plane. “No, I don’t. But I do drive a pretty big SUV.”
“A little thing like you?” I raised a brow.
“It was my ex-husband’s,” she boasted with a triumphant smirk, and I laughed. “He wanted the house. So I took his car.”
The distance between us from the table to the counter was filled with a thick and heavy tension. Her pretty, green eyes dropped to her hands, her fingers picked at the skin around her nails, and a whispering voice told me I should do something. Say something. But my tongue found itself in a frozen mess of knots and my eyes made the awkward shift to stare out the window again.
“So, I, uh … I guess I’ll just run across the street,” she finally said after a few moments passed.
“Right. Bloggin’ business,” I replied with a nod, my stare fixated on the bakery across the street.
“Would you like to come with me?”
Her question shocked me, and I looked to her. “Ya want me to go?”
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