They arrived at Kerry Airport and rented a car. Allison’s grandmother was in a nearby hospital. The town of Kenmare, which was located in Kerry County, was a bit farther. But for now, they were headed directly to the hospital.
While Rand drove, Allison kept in constant touch with her family. She’d texted them from the plane, too. So far, the status of her grandmother’s condition hadn’t changed. She was still in critical condition.
Allison looked tired and worried and frazzled, more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her. He would be in a state of fear, too, if it was Lottie who’d fallen ill.
“This isn’t how I envisioned your first trip to Ireland,” Allison said to him, “if you ever came here at all.”
“This isn’t something I could’ve imagined, either.” Not with someone in her family being in jeopardy. As far as Rand knew, her grandmother, Fiona, was seventy-eight years old and had been in excellent health up until now. No doubt Allison’s grandfather, Cormac, was a nervous wreck. He and Fiona had been married for over fifty years. Rand couldn’t fathom losing someone who’d been in your life that long. He prayed silently that Fiona recovered. Allison had prayed openly on the plane, using Celtic rosary beads that her grandma had given her when she was a child.
The hospital, a series of white brick-and-glass buildings, was only fifteen minutes away. Rand parked, and they rushed inside and got directions to the unit where her grandma was. He held Allison’s hand as they dashed down sterile hallways.
The family was gathered around Fiona’s bed. Cormac sat beside his wife, keeping a loving vigil. Amid the starched white sheets, Fiona appeared small and weak, with her cap of matted white hair, pale complexion and IVs taped to her arms.
Allison’s distraught parents, Sheila and Angus, took turns hugging their daughter. They hugged Rand, too. When Rhys approached them, Allison put her head on her brother’s shoulder. He was a solid wall of a man, as big and strong as could be, with short, medium brown hair and light brown eyes. After he comforted his sister, he shook Rand’s hand and thanked him for coming.
Allison approached the bed and stood next to her grandfather’s chair. Rand held back and watched the scene unfold.
Sheila came over to him and said, “Allison’s granny is getting the best care possible. She was treated immediately, and her doctor told us how important that is. But I think having Allison here is going to be the best medicine of all.”
He glanced at Fiona. She definitely seemed aware that her beloved granddaughter was by her side now. But there still wasn’t anything any of them could do, except continue to pray as they’d been doing all long.
* * *
By the next day Fiona’s condition was upgraded to stable, and if her progress continued the way it was, she would be transferred to a rehabilitation center in the area. For now, she still had some residual effects from the stroke. But overall, she was doing much better. To Rand, it felt like nothing short of a miracle, and on this picturesque afternoon while everyone else was visiting Fiona, he was at the farm with Allison’s brother.
Typically, July was the driest month in Kenmare with mild temperatures, although it could turn cool and damp without warning. Either way, Rhys had put Rand to work on the farm. Rhys claimed that he was shorthanded and needed extra help, but Rand suspected that he was being “tested” to see how he measured up.
Cartwright Farms owned hundreds of sheep and baby lambs. Just this morning, Rhys had taught Rand how to shear sheep—with a pair of hand shears. Most farmers used machines these days, but the Cartwrights still did it the old, traditional way. They thought machines took off too much wool, also leaving the sheep too cold afterward. Sheep could be shorn in all seasons, depending on the location and the conditions. Here, it was a summer activity.
As hard as the work was, Rand was invigorated by it. Although he’d always enjoyed being outdoors, he’d never known anything quite like this. It felt good being part of something so real, something that didn’t involve taking selfies and promoting himself online. The influence of Allison’s homeland was putting Rand in an authentic state of mind. Would he feel this way once he returned to Texas, too? Would he start living a more private life? He’d already gotten a little weirded out on the night of the fund-raiser about sharing pictures of Allison. He’d actually wanted to keep her to himself.
Before he taxed his mind too deeply about that, he returned his attention to the farm. At the moment, he and Rhys were taking a break, away from the barn where they’d shorn the first group of sheep.
Rhys stood near a fence rail. A black-and-white border collie, a National Champion Sheepdog finalist, sat loyally at his feet. Beyond man and dog were acres and acres of lush green valleys, surrounded by natural brush, low hills and high mountains.
Rand said, “If my father could see me now, he would accuse me of just playing in the dirt. He didn’t think I was good for anything.”
“I’m rather surprised myself,” Rhys replied. “I didn’t expect you to take to this so easily. But you do look as if you’ve been rolling around in the dirt.”
“Maybe because I have?” The first few sheep Rand had tried to shear had knocked him on his butt. “There are tons of ranches where I come from, and some of my closest friends are renowned horse breeders and cattlemen, but I was raised in a luxurious mansion that my grandmother used to own.”
“Then you’re doing all right for a spoiled rich boy.” Rhys chuckled, flashing what could only be described as a lethal smile.
“Gee, thanks.” Rand swigged his water.
Silent, Rhys rubbed his hand across his jaw. He had the kind of beard scruff that made him look tough, not trendy. But as rugged as he was, he was a savvy businessman, too. His London-based company, Cartwright News and Media, was highly successful.
“Have you always taunted Allison’s beaus?” Rand asked. “Or were you just reserving it for me?”
“I’ve done far worse to some of the lads she dated. But she isn’t dating you.” Rhys squinted at him. “If you weren’t already married to her, I would probably be hounding you about your intentions, making sure they were honorable.”
Rand’s guilt reared its head. Honorable wasn’t a word that applied to the reasons he’d married Allison. Sure, he’d accompanied her to Ireland to see her ailing grandmother, but that didn’t change the dynamics of their phony marriage.
“She seems happy with you,” Rhys added.
Now the big Irishman was being brotherly, heightening Rand’s guilt. Allison deserved better; all of the Cartwrights did. Rand wasn’t the man her family thought he was. His divorce to Allison was imminent. But even as the thought crossed his mind, a sense of loneliness came over him. He was getting used to being her husband.
Her fraudulent husband, he reminded himself. He didn’t know the first thing about being a loyal partner, and he never would. It simply wasn’t in his DNA. The grandfather he favored was a party boy, and even Rand’s own father, with his high-and-mighty attitude, had been a terrible husband—and not just to Rand’s mother. His dad had been married four times in total, with each of his screwed-up marriages ending in divorce.
“When Allison gets back, you two should go into town,” Rhys said, cutting into Rand’s troubled thoughts. “With everything else that’s been going on you haven’t gotten the chance to see the sights. She can show you the church where your convalidation is going to take place next year. That’s going to be a major event around here. So you might as well start gearing up for it now.”
The last thing Rand wanted was to visit the site where his marriage to Allison was supposed to be blessed. To keep his anxiety in check, he made a joke. “Maybe you and I ought to go out for a pint of Guinness instead.”
Thankfully, Rhys laughed. “I’ll take you pub hopping another time. For today, you should go to Holy Cross. You and Allison can light a candle for Granny while you’re there.”
“T
hen that’ll be the plan.” Rand certainly couldn’t refuse. Even if he was no longer a churchgoer, he still believed in the power of prayer. But pretending to her family that he and Allison were going to renew their vows in a sacred ceremony was another matter.
“Come on.” Rhys gestured in the direction of the barn. “We’ve got more work to do before either of us can go anywhere.”
Rand nodded, clearing the emotional tension from his mind and returning his focus to the farm.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Rand sat across from Allison in a secondhand bookstore that doubled as a vegetarian café and organic produce market, eating biscuits and soup.
He learned that she used to come here often. Writer that she was, she loved being surrounded by used books, immersing herself in the essence of how they looked and felt and smelled. He enjoyed the setting, too. Rand liked everything about Kenmare. The Irish name for it was Neidin, meaning little nest. He thought it fit the town beautifully, with how charmingly it was nestled against the mountains. In addition to its quaint atmosphere, Kenmare was also known for scenic walks, offering short jaunts or long-distance routes, along the peninsulas or through the hills.
“It’s almost as if time stands still here,” he said. “I’ve traveled to lots of places, to many countries and continents, but nothing has affected me like this.”
“I’m so glad you’re here with me.” Allison took a sip of her soup. Afterward, she said, “And to think that Rhys has been teaching you to work the farm.” She grinned. “Who knew that you’d be so good at it?”
Rand slathered his biscuit with almond butter. “I was trying not to look like a fool in front of him. Your brother is one tough dude.”
“And I’m one tough gal.” She waved her spoon at him. “Remember how I kicked your arse during our football and rugby match back in Texas?”
He rolled his eyes, but he smiled, too. “How could I forget?” His losing that game had been the start of their affair.
She lowered her spoon. “I can relax now that Granny is getting better. I was so worried about her. I can’t even...”
Her words drifted, but he understood what she was trying to convey: the fear, the possibility of losing her grandmother. But everything was going to be okay now.
He reached across the table for her hand, and the tips of their fingers touched.
She asked, “When we leave here, do you want to see the restaurant where I used to work? Not to eat there since we’re already eating, but just to have me point it out?”
“Sure.” He wanted to become more familiar with her past. But even so, the reminder of the restaurant bothered him. He knew it was where she’d met Rich Lowell, and now Rand was beginning to wonder if he was being as unscrupulous as Rich. Even if he wasn’t lying to Allison about his identity or plotting to steal her money, he was conning her family, doing whatever he could to earn their admiration and respect. But his biggest issue was Allison herself. What if he broke her heart when their marriage was over?
She’d promised that she wasn’t going to get attached to him, and he’d taken her at her word. But could a hopeless romantic like Allison truly keep a promise like that? Was it only a matter of time before she developed feelings for him that weren’t part of their deal? Even now, she was giving him a tender look. A wifely look, he thought.
Well, of course she was, he relented. She was supposed to act like that when they were in public. He was probably giving her goo-goo eyes, too. It was a habit they’d both formed.
But still, there was something about the way she was behaving that gave him pause. It just felt different, somehow.
They finished their soup and biscuits and proceeded to the restaurant where Allison used to work.
“It gets lots of tourist business,” she said, as they stood in front of the colorfully painted building.
“It looks like a nice place. But it makes me think of Rich being here with you.” He couldn’t seem to stop himself from admitting that her affair with Rich had crossed his mind.
“He only came into the restaurant when we were first getting to know each other. Once we started dating, we were careful not to be seen in town together. It’s crazy now that I think back on it. I should have known that no good would come of a relationship I was hiding from my family.”
“We’re hiding things about our relationship from your family, too. And mine and everyone else we know.”
“At least neither of us is married to someone else.”
Yes, but were the circumstances of their marriage any less deceptive? Rand hardly thought so. “Your brother wants you to show me the church where our second ceremony is supposed to take place.”
“He mentioned it to me, as well. But he assumed I would want you to see it.” She paused. “I hope you don’t mind going there. I agree with him that we should light a candle for Granny.”
“I think we should, too.” Rand was already prepared to do that.
Since Holy Cross was within walking distance, they continued on foot.
As they approached the building, he stopped to study the Gothic Revival–style architecture, with its gray-and-white stone exterior, pitched slate roofs, corner buttresses and stunning stained glass windows. A large, freestanding Celtic cross was part of the design, too.
“It’s a beautiful church,” he said, realizing that Allison’s family had probably worshipped here for generations. “Do you know when it was consecrated?”
“It was in 1864, but the local land agent didn’t want to provide a site for it. In fact, the priest who built it topped the spire with a weather vane rooster. Everyone around here thinks it’s because he wanted the rooster to crow over the pernickety agent. The agent’s office used to be located in the town square.” She gestured in the direction of where the agent had supposedly been crowed upon.
Rand laughed. “Now, that’s my kind of priest.”
She laughed, as well. “Mine, too.” After a breath of serious silence, she asked, “Do you want to go inside now?”
“Not yet.” He needed to talk to her first. “Remember when I told you that I hadn’t been to church in a really long time? I never explained why I stayed away, and I want to do that now.”
She met his gaze. “I’m listening, Rand. You can say whatever feels right.”
At this point, he didn’t know what felt right, but he started at the beginning. “My grandmother didn’t raise me in this faith. Neither did my father. But my mother did. She joined the church after she and Dad got divorced. Mom had me baptized, and I used to like going to mass with her. But after she died, that part of my life ended.” He hesitated before he said, “When I was old enough to attend services by myself, I returned to the parish where she used to take me. But it wasn’t the same. It just reminded me of my mother’s funeral and how painful it had been to lose her. So I stopped going, and I haven’t been back since.”
“I’m so sorry.” She made a soft sound. “Did it help to stay away?”
“No. The pain was still there.” He glanced at the arched doorways, leading to the entrance of the church. “I’d like to light a candle for my mother while we’re here. I think she would’ve loved this place.”
Allison’s eyes went misty. “I’ll bet she’s watching over us right now.”
He let out the breath he was holding, releasing it from his lungs. “I hope so.”
They entered the building, and Allison dipped into the holy water, making the sign of the cross in front of her. Rand did, too, with his childhood memories flooding back. Good memories, he thought, of when his mom was alive.
The interior was even more impressive, light and airy with a high marble altar, decorative floors and carved wooden ceilings, rife with angels.
They approached the alcove and lit two candles, one for her grandmother and another one for his mother. After they spent some quiet time in prayer, Rand g
lanced over at Allison and wondered what renewing their vows here would be like.
A second later, he shook away the thought. One peaceful moment in a big, beautiful Irish church didn’t mean that he was meant to stay with Allison. Nor did it make him the kind of husband she needed. If anything, it just solidified the fact that she deserved more than he was capable of giving her.
When they returned to Texas, he was going to do everything within his power to get the green card interview moved up, hastening her opportunity to start a new life.
Without him.
Eleven
On Allison and Rand’s third and final day in Ireland, the weather turned cool and windy. They would be flying back to Texas that evening, but for now they were on a long and winding walk through the hills. For Allison, the trail was wonderfully familiar. She was taking Rand to see her childhood hideaway.
He asked, “How much farther is it?”
“We’re getting closer.” The location was adjacent to the farm, but still on Cartwright property.
He glanced around. “The scenery is breathtaking. It’s wonderful how well your grandmother is doing, too.”
Allison nodded. She was extremely grateful for Granny’s prognosis. “She certainly likes you.” When they visited her this morning, she called him, “A prince from a land called Royal.”
“I’ll bet she was a flirt in her day.”
“Yes, she was.” But Ma swooned over him, too. She was even knitting him a sweater with wool from the farm, promising to send it to him. Da, Granda and Rhys were impressed with Rand, as well. He’d passed their inspections with flying colors.
As for Allison, she’d finally given up the fight. She was no longer battling her feelings. Somewhere in the midst of this emotionally charged trip, she’d fallen madly, irreversibly in love with Rand.
A Convenient Texas Wedding Page 14