Hours later, addlebrained and bleary-eyed, I abandoned my desk and went looking for Tom. I stayed off the paths. It was the dinner hour and smartly dressed guests were taking evening strolls, enjoying the balmy summer night before heading to the dining room. I peeked in the back door of the kitchen, cupping my eyes so I could see through the screen. There was Tom, hair pulled back off of his angular, stubbled face with a headwrap, lifting a giant roasting pan from one of the ovens. He’d be on through dinner and probably well into the night. My body ached to think we hadn’t planned to spend the night together. I didn’t really feel like hitting Uncle Jack’s for a drink. I needed to be away from my work for a while.
I took off walking toward Maeve’s. When I neared her cottage, I noticed that Nap wasn’t outside. I opened the gate and approached the house. Maeve dozed on the sofa, an open book at her side, and Nap curled at her feet. She must have been lonely to bring the dog in. It was ridiculous that Tony wasn’t there to keep her company. I headed back in the direction of the dorms.
“Hello there, Shayla,” came a voice out of the darkness, stopping me in my tracks. Chris Burton sat on the bench near the main entrance to the door. “You said you’d find me.” He stood up. “Here I am.”
“Oh, hey, Chris. Is your dinner over already?”
“It is. I thought we could have our meeting now. Or over dessert.” He put his arms around me and put his hand up my t-shirt.
“Hey,” I pushed him away.
“Oh, come on, Shayla. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“Actually, it is. You were drunk before, Chris. Nothing happened.” I made a quick decision not to try to get in the dorm. If no one was home, it would be dangerous to be alone in there. I walked onto the path and began power-walking toward the castle. “Why don’t we go get a drink?”
“I’d rather be alone, Shayla,” he said, catching up to me. “I’ve quite a nice room. We can have a bottle sent to us. Pick up where we left off.”
“Chris, if you make this awkward, you won’t be able to carry on conducting business with Castle Stone.”
“Fuck Castle Stone’s business. It’s small potatoes. I’ve bigger fish to fry. I think I’ve just pulled off quite a pretty little deal with GlobeCo. Castle Stone’s business isn’t a patch on it. I’ve half a mind to stop wasting my time with that smug Tom O’Grady.” Chris tripped over his own foot and nearly went down. Drunk, obviously.
“Listen Chris, there’s no reason to throw the baby out with the bath water. We both know it’s a smart business model to have small deals alongside your big deals.” I knew nothing of the sort, I just didn’t want him to drop Tom and all the farmers who depended on this. “The food venture with Castle Stone is a sound one. And Tom O’Grady’s not that bad. I can talk to him and remind him that you’re in charge.”
“That’s right, Shayla, I’m the boss.” He grabbed me and kissed me hard. I pulled away. “I think the two of us can work to salvage this deal.” He pushed me up against the trunk of one of the huge trees just off the path. Panicked, I realized we were out of the light. He had his arms wrapped around me and held my wrists behind my back.
“Chris, let me go.”
“Not unless you agree to come to my room.” He kissed my neck. I tried to wriggle away and he bit down.
“Stop it! I swear, I’ll scream.”
He kicked my knees out from under me, and before I knew it, I was lying in the cool grass with him on top of me. “Feisty, aren’t you?” I saw an older couple walking up the path, headed to the Mews Cottages. Chris saw me see them and put his hand over my mouth. “Don’t cause trouble, Shayla. Just be quiet now.” He was kneeling on top of me and it hurt. I watched the couple fade out of sight. I figured I could salvage this.
“OK, let’s go to your room. That’s a good idea.” I tried to get up.
“Do you really mean that, Shayla, or are you playing games with me?”
I relaxed my body. If I could convince him I was being honest, I’d have a chance to get up and get to where people were.
“Of course I mean it.” I forced a light laugh. “You caught me. I was playing games. It’s hotter that way, right?”
“You are a filthy thing, aren’t you?” he gave me a rough, sloppy kiss. I went with it, doing my best to act like I was into it. I broke away as soon as I could without giving it away.
“Yes, now let’s go to your room.”
“We will, but now you’ve got me all wound up. How about a little relief here and now. He kneeled on my elbows and fumbled with his button and fly. A wave of fear rolled up in me. He was serious.
A saw a distant figure on the path. “Help!” I screamed. “Help me.”
Chris tried to pull his trousers down with one hand, while covering my mouth with the other. I bit his hand.
“Ouch, he screamed loudly. “You bitch.” The bite threw him off balance. His elbow came down on my chest and it hurt.
“Help me, you there! Help me!” I yelled. I tried to shove my thumbs in his eye sockets, like my Women’s Self-Defense Class coach had demonstrated. He grabbed my wrists and dug into the flesh.
“I’m having a heart attack! Call 9-1-1!” Of course I wasn’t having a heart attack, but my coach said to scream this phrase. People are more likely to get involved with a health emergency than an attack. But did they have 9-1-1 in Ireland? Chris tried to cover my mouth with one of his hands, while keeping both of my wrists in the vice-like grip of his other.
“I mean call 9-1-9 or whatever!” I shouted through his fingers. “Call an ambulance, I’m dying!” I tried to bite his palm, but couldn’t sink my teeth in. Instead, I spat in it.
“That’s disgusting,” he hissed, pulling his hand away. “Here comes someone. Shut your gob or I’ll shut it for you. The man on the path was jogging toward us. Chris wrestled his zipper back up. “You’ll be sorry for this.”
“All right, there? Can I help?” It was Brian Lynch. Chris scrambled to his feet. I tried to get up, but I had twisted my ankle in the fall. “What on earth is going on here?”
“Brian! Mate!” Chris cried, trying to appear normal. Brian held out his hand to me. I grabbed it and he pulled me to my feet. I could stand, if I didn’t put much weight on my bad foot. “Just a bit of fun. You know, being naughty outdoors.”
Brian looked at me, trying to get a handle on the situation. “Shayla, are you alright?”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to blow the deal for Tom.
“She’s alright. It was her idea, actually,” Chris said, barking out a laugh. “She’s just embarrassed. You know, that you caught her like this.”
“No, in fact I’m not all right, Brian.” I took in a sharp breath, and felt the bruised place where Chris had elbowed me. “He just attacked me.”
Brian stepped forward and balled up his fists. “Step over onto the path, Shayla. Burton, you stay where you are.”
“I’ll stay where I am, but don’t let her fool you. She’s a tease. She started this, then wanted to save face when you came along and saw what kind of a girl she is.”
“Shut your mouth, Burton. Shayla, do you want me to call the guard?”
“The police?” Chris asked incredulously. “And say what? That Shayla here is a nasty little tease?”
“Shut up, Burton, or I’ll be calling an ambulance.”
“It’s OK now, Brian. Don’t call anyone. He’s not worth it.”
“You wouldn’t know, would you?” He shot me a look. “Fair enough, then. We all agree it’s been a misunderstanding. Let’s just go our separate ways.” Brian put his arm around my shoulders and steered me back toward the castle. “I’ll see you at breakfast then, Brian.” He leaned in as he passed me and hissed, “Dyke.”
“What did you say?” Brian asked.
“Nothing Bri, it’s just between me and the girl.”
“I’ll have you know I think of this girl as one of my daughters. And furthermore, one of my favorite workers at this establishment is a lesbian, so I’ll
thank you not to speak so hatefully.” I was stunned. I didn’t know that Brian realized Mary liked girls. He seemed so conservative, but so much for judging a book by its cover. “You won’t be seeing me at breakfast. In fact, pack your things and leave here tonight.” He stopped on the path. “The deal’s off. My partners will understand completely. They’ve daughters of their own.”
“No, Brian! Let’s discuss this, man to man…”
“If you haven’t checked out in one hour, I will call the guard. My eyes are getting old and it’s dark out. Who knows what facts I’ll remember?”
“Fine! Who wants to do business with an aging Irish albatross, anyway?” Chris stormed off down the path, yelling over his shoulder. “You’re washed up, old man. Call me when you’ve joined this century. Keep doing business with your rolodexes and your handshakes, and your verbal agreements. You’ve done me a favor.” We watched the back of his head as he barreled away down the path.
Brian put both of his hands on my shoulders. “Tell me the truth, love. Are you alright? I’ll call a doctor or the guards and it won’t be a speck of bother.”
“I’m fine, Brian, it’s just that I cost Tom a deal. And, oh gosh, I’ve cost you a deal, too.” I buried my face in my hands.
“You’ve done nothing of the sort. That bastard Burton, pardon my French, showed his true colors and we’re well rid of him. Tom O’Grady seems a good man. I’m sure he’ll agree that it’s better this way. Now, where can I walk you?”
We headed back to the dorms and Brian didn’t leave until I was safe behind my own door and he’d patrolled the hallways.
“If you feel the slightest bit of worry, call for help. No good man would ever blame you for a false alarm. The only call you’ll ever regret is the one you don’t make, I tell my girls.”
“Thank you, Brian.”
“Not at all, pet.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed and closed my eyes. I remembered being about 16. Hank had hosted a small party for one of his book launches at our apartment. It was a Tuesday night; he never took my school schedule into consideration. An editor of his, a man I’d always liked, remarked on what a lovely young woman I had become, so like my mother. “I guess it won’t be long before you’re walking her down the aisle, eh, Hank.”
“Nonsense,” Hank had replied. “If she chooses to marry, she’ll walk herself down the aisle. She’s her own woman. She doesn’t need me to give her away.”
I imagined such a discussion would never take place in Brian Lynch’s household.
My body urged me to go find Tom, but my brain told me to sit down and work on the book. I had to make something work. Now that I’d blown the food deal, I wanted to salvage something. If I did a good job, this book could help put Castle Stone on the map. If the brand became known, offers to create products could pour in. My gut clenched. I knew how tenuous launching the right book at the right time could be. Still, I had hope. DIY movements still roared on back in the States, and I felt they’d never died among the practical people of Ireland. Tom’s sincerity around home gardening, respecting the earth, and working hard to sustain oneself had to shine through. If I could pull this off, he’d approve. He’d forgive me.
I dug in and wrote like my life depended on it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It is not a secret if it is known by three people.
I awoke the next morning to Mary rapping on my door, and calling “Sheila, Sheila, open up.”
I jumped out of bed and flung the door open. “Oh, Mary, am I on in the kitchen? I thought I was free today. Give me two seconds and I’ll be dressed and ready to go.”
“Not at all,” she said. “I’ve been sent to tell you that Chef wants you to pack a bag and report to the employee car park.” My mind whisked me to a variety of dark places. Tom had found out who I was and was sending me home. He had used me for sex and now wanted me out of his sight. Chris Burton had told him that I lied about my identity and had single-handedly blown the deal. Father Walsh found out I was a birth-control-using, pre-marital-sex-having agnostic and had called the Vatican for a decree to remove me.
“Why?” I asked with a dry mouth.
“I wasn’t told. I just work here, you know,” she said with a wink. She strode toward the exit door.
“Mary! You know everything. What’s going on?” She continued walking without turning around and disappeared out the door.
Quickly, I brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my hair. Making sure I had clean underwear, I stuffed random clothes and toiletries into my bag, trying to consider what I’d need on a plane if I were driven straight to the airport. I pulled out the red pashmina I’d stolen from Brenda’s office all that time ago. Its color was so harsh compared with the various pastel and white things I’d bought or inherited as hand-me-downs. I didn’t pack it. I couldn’t see myself wearing it ever again. My guilt pinched. At some point I should give it back to Monica. What would they do with the stuff I didn’t bring? Would Mary be dispatched to ship it?
I rushed to the car park, thinking, Whatever this is, I might as well get it over with. I scanned the lot, not knowing who or what to look for. Finally, Tom appeared dressed in dark-wash jeans, a fitted black v-neck t-shirt, and aviator sunglasses, his wavy hair going wild in the warm morning breeze. It made me nervous that he wasn’t smiling.
“Go ahead and get in the car.” He stashed my luggage in the back and climbed in the driver’s side.
“Right then, a little birdie told me you have a birthday coming up.”
“June 22nd,” I answered. Same as my mom’s. She’d always said I was the best birthday present she’d ever gotten. In a few short years I’d be the age she was when she died. Maybe that’s why I’d pushed my birthday to the recesses of my mind. I didn’t feel like an adult. I hadn’t yet pulled anything off to prove myself. I wracked my brain to suss out today’s date. I didn’t even know what day of the week it was. I marked time here assignment by assignment.
“I’m not fired?”
“Fired? You’re not paid, how can I sack you?” He smiled. “Today is Thursday, your birthday is Saturday. I’m taking you on a mini-break.”
“What’s that?”
“A holiday, but a short one.”
“A long weekend?”
“A dirty weekend, more like,” he said, leaning over to kiss me, planting his palm at the base of my belly.
“What about work?”
“Fasten your belt,” he said. I did and he eased the car onto the main road. “I had Mary cover your shifts, and I simply told the kitchen they’d have to handle it without me. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve taken off two days together? I don’t either. I honestly cannot remember.”
“What did you tell your mother?” I wasn’t sure who knew what or who was allowed to.
“You mean what did I tell my mother at 6:30 this morning when I was summoned to hers for breakfast with Father Walsh? Old people and priests don’t need a lot of sleep, do they? Here’s what my mother and Father Walsh told me, so. They told me I should stand aside and let two Catholic people enjoy each other’s wholesome company. Father Walsh said something about matrimony and welcoming any children God intended, something about Sarah and Abraham and you never know what can happen. Mam got embarrassed and glossed over that portion of the conversation He banged on about the rights of two Catholic people being allowed to spend time together without the community thinking impure thoughts and the balm of friendship. I couldn’t help thinking that was about himself and Danny. They do enjoy gardening together, and their opera records. In the end, Mam told me that you’re a sensible girl, and that I should take a leaf from your book.”
“Well, you should.” I looked around the village. Ballykelty was drenched in sunshine. The cobbled street was tidy and clean. Residents and shopkeepers alike had filled window boxes and wooden barrels with brightly colored flowers, and villagers in their shirtsleeves bustled busily, tending to their morning chores.
“Should
I? Tell me what you know, Sheila. We’ve a long drive ahead of us. I’ll listen.”
“Here’s something I know: I don’t like surprises.”
“Too bad. I’m full of ’em. You’ll have to adjust. Next.”
“I know sitting on bar stools isn’t any fun.”
“So you’ll sit on my lap. No complaints from me about that. Anything else?”
“I know how to avoid dangling participles.”
“I’ll have to trust you on that one.”
“I know where to get cheap ethnic food in New York City.”
“I know how to cook anything you could ever want to eat, and I won’t charge you for it.”
“That sounds even better.” I took his hand. He looked so sexy and in control at the wheel. Watching his thighs rise and flex as he worked the pedals of the car was turning me on. So was the brightness of the sun and the vivid jewel-green of the fields we passed. It was probably my imagination, but I swore I could feel the warmth of my blood in my veins. I felt alive.
“Here’s something, I know your mother and Tony might like each other.”
“Might they? Are you an expert on such matters? Did you know I liked you, from the first moment I laid eyes on you?”
“No.” I wanted to tell him that I’d liked him from the moment I laid eyes on him, from the first moment I’d heard his voice. But then, I’d have to tell the whole truth. “I didn’t know that.”
“I did.” He glanced sideways and caught my eye. “Do you know how much I like you now?”
I hesitated. “I want to know it.”
“But you don’t?”
Summer at Castle Stone Page 30