This Irish House

by Jeanette Baker

  “How can I ever thank you?”

  “I’ll think of a way.”

  She heard the laugh in his voice and laughed back. How easy it was. “I’m sure you will. Don’t stay away too long.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  She tilted her head to one side and considered his question. “Actually I do,” she said.

  “I won’t disappoint you.”

  She watched him drive away. A small, ridiculous kernel of fear cropped up in her mind. What if all this was too much for him? What if he thought seriously about everything and came to the conclusion that two needy children and the widow of a terrorist was more than he was willing to take on? What would she do without him?

  The familiar self-preservation mode she had cultivated rose like shackles around her. Self-doubt, her most serious flaw, had a way of crushing her confidence, of dousing her with a healthy portion of reality. Oddly enough it was Maeve’s words she thought of. I’ve never been sorry to see a man go, Kate. If he doesn’t realize what he has in me, he isn’t worth having. Incredibly she would miss Maeve. She already missed her, more than she missed Patrick.

  They waited for her on the porch, her family, holding back questions, wondering where they would go now. They weren’t complete without her. It pleased her, this codependency among the four of them. For this moment it seemed a tremendous responsibility, one she would gladly hold on to forever. She hooked arms with her children and kissed her son. “I’m sure you’re famished. What would you like to eat?”

  Kevin laughed. “The world falls apart and Mum still wants to know what to cook.”

  “Lucky for you,” his mother retorted. “The refrigerator’s full.”

  “When has it ever not been full?” Deirdre asked.

  “After Kevin and his friends come home after school,” said Kate.

  “You didn’t really mind, did you, Mum?” Kevin’s expression was worried. Kate thought of the rough-and-tumble innocence of those lost days and nearly broke down. What she wouldn’t give for them again. “No, love,” she said.

  “What happens now?” John asked when they were seated around the sunlit kitchen table.

  “What do you mean?” Kate buttered a second piece of toast. Her appetite had miraculously returned.

  “Will Kevin continue here at school? Does he have anything left to do in Belfast?”

  “I don’t know.” She looked at Kevin. “Do you?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t been back to Belfast, not since Neil found me. He didn’t say anything.”

  “Well then,” said his mother bracingly. “We’ll wait and see. No one’s going anywhere. As far as school, perhaps we can talk about that after Kevin rests a bit.”

  “I’m not really tired, but I will take a shower.” He stood, his throat working. “I’m glad to be back.”

  Deirdre stood and ran around the table to hug her brother. “Oh, Kevin. We’re so glad to have you here.”

  Kevin’s arms enfolded her. “I’ve made a mess of things, Dee. I wish I could take everything back.”

  “Everyone wishes he could take something back,” Deirdre murmured into his shoulder. “Experience isn’t wasted. It always has a purpose.”

  Kevin tugged on her hair. “How did you turn out to be so serene?”

  She stared at him. “You’re joking? I had the perfect role model. When have you ever seen Mum in a state?”

  Kevin threw his mother a conspiratorial look. “She’s had her moments.”

  Deirdre shook her head. “Not when I’m around.”

  “I have a way of provoking her.”

  “Stop it,” Kate protested. “You have me sounding like an ogre. Go upstairs and take your shower. I’m sure if you try you might even sleep a bit.”

  Kevin stopped at the foot of the stairs. “I didn’t say goodbye to Neil.”

  “I said if for you. He understood.”

  Kevin hesitated. “Will you be seeing him again?”

  Kate felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She lifted her head. “I hope so.”

  “I’m glad,” said her son, surprising her.

  Soon after, Deirdre followed her brother up the stairs. Kate was left alone with her father.

  “You’re quiet this morning, Da. Is everything all right?”

  Her father sighed and drummed his thick fingers on the table. “I’m a simple man, Katie, and I won’t be beating around the bush.”

  “If you did, the shock of it might kill me.”

  “Now, there you go. That’s exactly what I mean.” John’s brow wrinkled. “You’ve changed, Katie. You have a tongue on you that’s new. And what of this Neil fellow? Are you stepping out with him, Kate?”

  She swallowed a smile. “No one steps out anymore, Da. They stay in.”

  “Mind that tongue, lass. It’s your father to whom you’re speaking.”

  “Don’t disapprove of me, Da. I like Neil very much. Is that so bad?”

  “He’s not Irish.”

  “He’s Welsh.”

  “Is he Catholic?”

  “Not anymore.” Better to get it all out. “He’s divorced with a daughter.”

  John groaned.

  Suddenly Kate was angry. “Did you really believe I would live the rest of my life alone? Is that what you want for me?”

  “Of course not.”

  “At my age, do you think I’m going to find someone who hasn’t been married?”

  “I hoped you would find someone like you.”

  “A widower?”

  “Aye.”

  “How many widowers in their early forties do you think are out there, Da?”

  John scratched his chin. He looked embarrassed. “I haven’t really thought it through.”

  Kate’s anger dissipated suddenly, without warning, leaving her flat and empty. She pressed her fingers against her temples. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. More than likely nothing will come of it anyway.”

  “Have a bit of faith, Katie. You’re a fine, attractive woman. A man would be a fool to look the other way when you’re taken with him. Neil Anderson doesn’t appear foolish.”

  “I thought you didn’t like him.”

  “I never said that. I merely wondered if he was right for you, that’s all.”

  “I don’t know if he’s right. We’re not there yet.”

  “I’d hurry up a bit if I was you, Katie. You’re not getting any younger.”

  “You’re incredible, Da. You really are.”

  He knocked on the door tentatively as if unsure of his welcome. She liked the casualness of him, khaki slacks and a slate-blue shirt that turned the gray of his eyes to pure silver. He looked young and relaxed.

  “Come in,” she said holding the door open for him.

  He sat across from her at the wooden table, gleaming and sweetly scented of orange polish. “I thought you would never come back to Belfast,” he confessed.

  “I wanted to wait until Kevin decided what to do.”

  “Has he made any decisions?”

  “Art school.” Kate shook her head. “I never would have guessed. He said you told him to appeal to me.”

  Neil grinned. “There is no harm in asking.”

  “I’m amazed at what I never noticed. It’s a lowering thought.” Her lip quivered. “There’s a great deal for him to work through.”

  “You’re a marvelous mother, Kate.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What about Deirdre. Has she gone back to Belfast?”

  “Not yet. I’m trying to persuade her to transfer to Galway or Dublin. Belfast is difficult and will be for some time.”

  “Any luck?”

  “Some. We’ll see.”

  They sat in silence until it became awkward.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asked.

  “Tea would be splendid.”

  “What happens now?” she asked after she poured the tea.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is your job finished in Belfast?”
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br />   “That depends on you.”

  Courage, Kate, courage. “I don’t understand.”

  He leaned forward and took her hands in his. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Kate. I don’t know what you’re like in the morning or what part of the paper you read first. I don’t even know how you like your coffee or your eggs or whether you read or visit the theater. I do know that you’re a woman of tremendous character, educated, warm, loyal and beautiful, a woman I’d be a fool not to pursue. Maybe, if things work out, we could make it permanent. I don’t need bells and whistles. I need a partnership that endures.”

  She pulled her hands away. “That’s a dreadful proposal. No wonder your wife found someone else.”

  He stiffened. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

  “So was your declaration.”

  He shook his head, bewildered. “I don’t understand.”

  Her eyes flashed dangerously. “You aren’t the least bit romantic. A woman wants to be told she’s swept a man off his feet. She wants the words, lovely, romantic words telling her she’s the love of his life, that he’s never felt this way before, that this love is different. She wants him to look at her and hear bells and whistles.” Her voice rose. “I want bells and whistles. I don’t want a partnership. I want to be loved desperately, giddily.”

  He stared at her.

  “Say something,” she demanded.

  “Are you in love with me?”

  “Yes,” she snapped, angry at her own admission.

  His lips twitched. “I was being so very careful not to scare you away.”

  “What?”

  “I thought you needed more time after this mess with Patrick. I believed the best way to approach you was slowly, showing up with an invitation now and then, allowing you to grow accustomed to me, becoming better acquainted with your children.” He laughed, a low, deep chuckle that made her heart beat faster.

  “I don’t need any more time,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to go away, ever.”

  He reached for her, pulling her out of the chair and into his arms, brushing the hair away from her forehead, his lips against her cheek murmuring the words, romantic and passionate, words that worked their way into her heart, soothing her ego, easing her bruised soul, words leaving no doubt that, in his eyes, she was more than he’d ever dreamed of finding.

  Later, they sat on the long couch that faced the window, the one with a view of the Atlantic. “I was worried that you would say no, or that it was too soon.”

  “Too soon? I’ve been alone for six years.”

  “Not really,” he said gently. “Until a few days ago, Patrick was still with you. I’m still a bit worried that I’m meeting you on the rebound, but I’ve decided to take my chances. I’m going to do this right, Kate. I’m going to woo you and your children and even your father, if I have to.”

  “How will you do that?”

  “Through old-fashioned courtship, dinners out, the cinema, an occasional play, the opera, a weekend away, family holidays.”

  “It sounds lovely.”

  “Is it what you want?”

  He looked very earnest sitting there with hair falling over his forehead. She would have taken him bald or any way at all, but she was ever so grateful for his full head of hair and his lean tight stomach and the way his cheeks creased when he laughed. It was a shallow sentiment, she knew, and she was more than a little ashamed to admit that appearance was important to her, but admitting it or not made it no less true. “Yes,” she said. “I want it very much.”

  He released his breath. “Thank God.”

  She traced the line of his nose with her finger and pressed a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. Dare she say it? Yes. With this man she could say anything without fear. But she would not tell him of her life with Patrick, or her suspicions, the absences, the emptiness, the frustrated anger. She would rise to a new level of expectation. What had he called her, a woman of tremendous character, warm, loyal and beautiful? And why not? Wasn’t it possible that she was all those things? That a different woman could rise up because of a different man? Wasn’t everyone a myriad of parts, each one waiting for the right circumstances to emerge?

  Gently she touched his ear with her tongue, smiling when he shivered. “We’re not all that young anymore, you know.”

  “We’re not that old, either.” He replied.

  “Old enough to know what we want.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Do you believe in long courtships?”

  He pulled away to look at her. “Do you?” he asked cautiously.

  “No.”

  The laugh started in his eyes. “Is that a proposal?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve never had a woman propose to me.”

  “You never will again.”

  “In that case, I should probably accept.”

  “Most definitely.”

  “I do.”

  Kate smiled. “Those are lovely words. They’ll come in handy quite soon.”

  “Are we officially engaged?”

  “We are.”

  “Thank God,” he said for the second time that morning.