The Summer Garden

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The Summer Garden Page 18

by Sherryl Woods


  She wasted most of the afternoon waging an internal war with herself. By the time she returned to the pub, she’d reached no conclusion, which left her feeling more out of sorts than ever. She should have gone straight back to Nell’s till the clouds over her dispersed, but she didn’t. Maybe she was itching for a confrontation, after all.

  Seeing that Luke was on the phone in his office when she returned, she sat at a table by the window he’d been using earlier and peeked out at the bay through a sliver of an opening between the sheets of protective brown paper. She thought she’d never tire of that view, especially on a sunny day like this one.

  When he finished his call, Luke joined her, dropping a distracted kiss on her cheek, then pausing to take another look.

  “Are you unhappy about something, Moira?”

  “Just feeling a bit at loose ends,” she admitted, dancing toward the topic, but not yet ready to bring it up.

  “You spent the whole morning working on your photographs,” he reminded her, looking puzzled. “Were you unhappy with them?”

  “No, some are quite good, in fact. And I have prints to give to Shanna and Kevin and some of the others. I’ve made several for Nell as well. I hope to find frames and give them to her as a thank-you for welcoming me into her home.”

  “She’ll love that,” he said. “So what is going on in that complicated mind of yours?”

  She met his gaze and risked expressing just a bit of what she’d been thinking on her walk. “I’m not entirely sure I’m cut out to be a career woman.”

  “But you’ve barely even begun,” he protested. “How could you possibly know? I thought the idea of being a photographer was exciting to you.”

  “It was,” she said. “In a theoretical way. It’s the first time I’ve ever had people tell me I’m not just good at something, but possibly even extraordinary. It took my breath away, to be quite honest. And Peter has jobs waiting, so the pressure’s already on to treat this as something more than a hobby.”

  He was obviously floundering, but she had to give him credit. He kept trying to figure out what she was saying.

  “You don’t want to be a photographer?” he asked. “You’ve figured that out after only a few days at it? How can that be?”

  She sighed. How could she tell him that what she wanted was something much simpler, to be a part of his life, to be a wife and mother and partner? That was so politically incorrect it made her feel as if she must be slightly crazy for wanting it. She couldn’t help recalling how Laila and Jess had looked at her when she’d admitted as much to them.

  “Having the whole photography thing dangled in front of me, first by Peter back home and then by Megan, it was exciting. I know I should be ecstatic to have gotten such reactions from the two of them, and I am. But a whole lifetime of it? I don’t know that I have the drive for it, Luke. And that’s what it will take to be a success, isn’t it? It’s not something to be done by half measures.”

  Luke shook his head, clearly bemused by her change of heart. “No one is saying you have to pursue it, if it’s not what you want,” he told her. “But shouldn’t you at least give it more of a chance?”

  “Oh, I will,” she said. “I’m not foolish enough to turn my back on something I might actually be good at, not after never excelling at anything before. And Peter’s committed me to doing these jobs. I certainly won’t let him down.”

  She met his gaze. “You know what’s ironic? For years I had no direction for my life back home. When Grandfather suggested this trip, I thought I’d find what I needed here. Amazingly, all the signs here point in exactly the same direction—toward photography. And yet I still feel unsettled and at loose ends, like it’s all a bad fit.”

  Luke frowned at her words. “How were you hoping to fit in here?”

  “I don’t know exactly,” she responded evasively, though it wasn’t true. She’d wanted more here. She’d wanted him, not in the way she had him, but with a future all tied up in a pretty bow. It had been a girl’s daydream, really.

  “Is this about me?” he asked, his expression wary. “Is it about me not being ready to take the next step in our relationship?”

  Usually she appreciated his directness, but right this second she found it annoying and egotistical, especially with that look on his face like a cornered animal. “Not everything is about you, Luke.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” he said patiently. “But I’m asking if you made this trip hoping for something more to happen between us. You’ve been hinting at that for days now, and I thought I’d explained where things stood.”

  She regarded him with a touch of defiance that eventually faltered. “Oh, you have. Don’t worry, I know the way of things, Luke. We had a bit of a fling in Ireland. It’s continuing quite nicely here, but that’s all it is.”

  He actually looked shocked by her assessment. It had him unexpectedly backpedaling. “And if I were to say it’s not that casual? Would that make you happier?”

  She frowned at the question. “What do you mean?”

  “What if it’s more than a fling to me? What if I truly care about you?”

  “Do you?” she pressed, fighting to keep her hopes from spinning wildly out of control. It wouldn’t do to leap to conclusions, not about something like this.

  He smiled, taking her hands in his, but then his expression turned serious. “Here’s the truth, Moira,” he said. “My feelings for you were strong from the moment we met, but, like you, I’ve had little sense of direction in my life. This place is my chance to prove myself, not just to my family, but also to myself. I want to have something to offer you when the time comes. Until I have that, I’ve been trying not to rush into anything else.”

  She found his earnest tone oddly endearing. “One thing at a time, then? How many ways do you have to repeat that to me before I can accept it? I must be making you crazy, coming back to the same thing time after time. You’ll make a wild success of this place and then decide whether I fit in. That’s the bottom line.”

  “Not if you fit in,” he corrected. “There’s no question of that. It’ll be more a matter of whether you want to. You could move forward with your photography and discover that you’re truly passionate about it. I think right now you’re all nerves, wondering if it’s real. I think you’d rather not try than risk failing.”

  “It’s not about being afraid to fail,” she said fiercely. “I’ve failed at plenty in my life. I’m used to it.” What she’d never reached for before was love, and she was terrified of failing at that. She looked him in the eye. “Since we’re being honest, do you really want to hear what I want now?”

  “Sure.”

  “I want to help you make a success of this place,” she said with total candor. “And that’s not entirely so I can work side by side with you and sneak kisses every chance we get.” At least that was a partial truth, if not the whole truth.

  He grinned at that. “Then why else would you want to do it?”

  “Because it’s something I love,” she said simply. “I left school because nothing there seemed to excite me. I was wasting my time and theirs. The only time I’ve felt at home was working in places just like this, chatting up the customers, making someone lonely smile just a bit. Mum and my granddad would never have approved of such a thing as a career. They would have seen it as wasting my life.” She shrugged. “But even more than photography, it feels right to me.”

  Luke regarded her with amazement. “Moira, if you wanted to stay and work here, why didn’t you say so from the beginning? If we can work out all the proper visas or whatever it takes, nothing would please me more. I’m sure Connor could make the arrangements.”

  Finally, an invitation to stay! But coming only after she’d all but dragged it out of him, his response irked her. “Was this a job interview, then?


  He frowned at the question. “I suppose it was, in a weird way.”

  “Then, no thank you,” she told him, politely but firmly.

  He regarded her in stunned silence, then muttered, “No? Didn’t you just give an entire speech about why you wanted to work here?”

  “You apparently heard only the part you wanted to hear,” she corrected. “I will not be just some little bit of Irish fluff meant to lend this place authenticity.”

  “I never said that,” he protested.

  “Didn’t you? That’s what I heard. I want more than that from you, Luke O’Brien.”

  “We’ve yet to talk about money,” he said, obviously frustrated and clearly operating on some entirely different wavelength from the one she’d been on.

  She stood up at that, and barely resisted the urge to use the nearby rolls of architectural plans to hit him. “Now you’re just being obtuse,” she said, stalking off.

  Apparently, even in America, men of Irish extraction were doomed to be dumber than dirt when it came to women!

  “I don’t get it,” Luke complained later that evening to his brother and Laila. “I offered her a job so she could stay here. I said we’d work out the legalities. I’m sure Connor could have figured out something.”

  “And that’s when she stormed off?” Laila asked, her eyes twinkling. “Imagine that!”

  Luke frowned at her sarcasm. “You’re taking her side?”

  “I wasn’t aware there were sides,” Laila replied. “But if there are, then, yes, I’m on hers.”

  “You’re going to have to explain that to me,” Luke said.

  Laila rolled her eyes. “Obviously. Matthew, what about you? Do you get it?”

  There was a definite challenge in the question. Luke saw his brother squirm uncomfortably.

  “If I had to take a stab at this,” Matthew said, “and apparently I do, Moira was actually angling for a partnership, and not of the business variety.”

  Laila patted his cheek. “Is it any wonder I gave in and married you? You’re so evolved. You actually get these things.”

  Luke laughed. These two were a never-ending source of amusement for everyone in the family. Laila was more than ten years older than Matthew. She’d been considered by everyone, including herself, to be boring and stuffy and rigid. Matthew had been an irrepressible scoundrel. They shouldn’t have worked as a couple, but they did. Fantastically well, as a matter of fact. Luke was envious, especially now that they seemed to have resolved their differences over her pregnancy.

  He met his sister-in-law’s gaze, wondering if she could possibly be right. “Moira wants a commitment? Immediately? I told her I have to focus completely on getting this business going right now. I didn’t close any doors, just explained the reality.”

  “How incredibly romantic of you,” Laila said. “I’m sure her heart went pitter-pat at such a lovely declaration. I’m surprised she didn’t put you in traction before she walked out on you.”

  Luke winced, then glanced at his brother. “It was really bad, wasn’t it?”

  Matthew nodded. “I’d say yes,” he agreed, glancing at his wife for confirmation.

  “Really bad,” Laila said emphatically. “Do you love her or not, Luke? Isn’t that the real issue here?”

  “But the timing—”

  “Maybe it sucks or maybe it’s just the way it is,” she said. “I wasn’t exactly ready to jump into this relationship with Matthew, you know, but there he was, all sexy and cute and persistent, and look where we are now.”

  “Please God, don’t start seducing each other right here in front of me,” Luke pleaded, seeing the way Matthew’s eyes darkened at Laila’s words. He shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll be on my way now. Thanks for the advice.”

  But even as he practically ran for the door, he realized they were no longer listening to a word he said.

  Nell had detected Moira’s unhappiness when she came back from spending her day with Luke at the pub. The girl hardly made a secret of it when she was having a bad day. Her dark and gloomy expression told the story.

  “Where’s my grandfather?” Moira asked.

  “Resting,” Nell told her. “He helped me work in the garden this morning, getting it ready to plant. It took a bit out of him.”

  Alarm immediately crossed Moira’s face. “I don’t understand. Grandfather never tires. Are you sure he’s okay? Maybe I should check on him.”

  Nell held up a hand. “Let him rest. When you’re our age, it takes a lot longer to completely recover from jet lag than it does at yours. At the end of a week, we’re just beginning to get our feet back under us.” She smiled at her. “It’s nice to see you so concerned about him.”

  “Well, of course I am!” Moira said with a hint of indignation.

  Nell’s smile widened. “It’s not a side of you I saw in Ireland,” she said.

  Moira flushed. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I was in a terrible mood over the holidays, and intent on taking it out on everyone else. I’m afraid that became a habit of mine over the years. I’ll go to my room now, so you don’t get sideswiped by my temper as well.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I’m tough enough to take it,” Nell commented. “Why don’t we have a cup of tea and you can tell my why you looked so unhappy just now when you got back from Luke’s?”

  Moira looked as if she’d prefer to get into the garden and dig for snails to eat, but she clearly couldn’t come up with an excuse that wouldn’t be considered impolite. “Sure,” she said reluctantly, following Nell into the kitchen.

  Nell always had a teakettle on the stove ready to be heated. While the water came to a boil, she put loose tea into one of her china pots, then poured the steaming water over it.

  While it steeped, she put two of the traditional currant scones she’d baked earlier onto plates and set one in front of Moira, along with a pot of jam and some Devonshire cream that Jess ordered for her from one of the suppliers for her inn.

  “I love this room,” Moira said quietly as Nell finally joined her. “There’s so much light in here, and the view is spectacular. It soothes me just to sit here and look out the window.”

  Nell nodded. “It does the same for me. Add in a cup of tea, and there’s virtually no problem that I can’t tackle right here at this table if I put my mind to it.”

  “I wish I had a place like that,” Moira blurted, then looked embarrassed at having revealed so much about her state of mind.

  Nell took the comment in stride. “We all need a place like that. Why are you troubled today? Are you feeling homesick?”

  Moira shook her head. “In an odd way, it’s because I don’t feel homesick that I’m in this mood.” She regarded Nell earnestly. “I don’t have a life there—not really. I’ve worked jobs, if you know what I mean. I don’t have a career or a calling, at least not in the way that Mum and Grandfather would want for me to have. And the promise of a career in photography, despite the potential of it, doesn’t excite me the way I know it should.”

  “But your future is your choice, not theirs,” Nell said, beginning to detect the problem. Moira, for all her rebellious ways, wanted to please her family, just as most young people did, whether they admitted it or not.

  Moira seemed surprised by her comment. “Do you truly believe that?”

  “Of course. Look at the paths my grandchildren have chosen. Abby seemed to know straightaway what she wanted. She has a gift for the financial world and has made her mark there almost from her first job on Wall Street. Bree had great ambitions about becoming a playwright, but her heart was here with Jake. She’s found a way to balance both, and added a wonderful flower shop as well. And Jess…” Her voice trailed off as she thought about Mick’s youngest.

  “She has a successful in
n,” Moira filled in for her. “She found her passion.”

  “That she did,” Nell agreed, “but she tried any number of jobs before that. Not a one of them suited her, and not a one of them lasted.”

  “She has attention deficit disorder, though,” Moira said. “Isn’t that why it was hard for her to find her way?”

  “That was one of the reasons, certainly,” Nell agreed. “But the real key was for her to find the one thing she was passionate about, just as you said. You need to do the same thing. Some people gravitate directly to it. Others have to try a variety of things until they find the one that fits. Maybe photography is it, maybe not. You’ve won some accolades from Megan, who knows the field, so it’s surely worth considering.”

  Moira nodded, her expression intrigued. “If I confide something to you, can you keep it to yourself?”

  Nell smiled. “With all these grandchildren, I’ve learned to keep a secret or two.”

  “I’ve never said all this to another soul, aside from hinting at it to Laila and Jess, who looked horrified, but what I want more than anything is to have a family—the kind I didn’t have when I was growing up. I want to be the mum who bakes cookies and walks my children to school, who volunteers for classroom outings and has dinner on the table when everyone gets home at the end of the day.”

  Nell regarded her with amusement. “Why would you need to keep such a goal to yourself? It’s a good path. It’s the one I chose.”

  Moira shrugged. “When there’s not a man in the immediate future, it’s a hard thing to admit.”

  “I thought there was a man in your future—my grandson.”

  Moira sighed. “He made it quite clear to me today that he’s a long way from wanting a future with me. His entire focus is on his new pub.” She met Nell’s gaze. “Which is as it should be. I understand how important this is to him, how badly he wants to make a success of it.” She shrugged. “I suppose I was just hoping I could be by his side to help.”

 

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