Spellbound

by Jeanette Baker

  “Aye.” Caili nodded. “I do.”

  Luke waved his arms from his infant seat on the floor. Mollie cooed at him. He laughed back at her. She picked up his rattle and shook it. Luke was diverted.

  “Who’s ready for ice cream?” Mollie asked.

  “Me, me!” the girls shouted.

  She carried bowls of ice cream into the living room and was returning for Luke when the phone rang. With a rush of pleasure she recognized her father’s voice.

  “Would you care to come tomorrow morning for a hike in the hills and, later, stay for a bite to eat?”

  She was touched. “I’d love to, but I have the children.”

  “All the better. Bring them along.”

  “I’ll have to check with Sean.”

  “Do that. I’ll be waiting to hear back from you.”

  Sean was surprised but agreeable. “Patrick doesn’t usually extend himself. You must lead a charmed life, Mollie Tierney. How are you holding up?”

  “How do you think?”

  There was a grin in his voice. “I think you’re regretting the invitation.”

  “Not a bit.”

  “You’re an amazing woman.”

  The warmth of his approval startled her. She couldn’t resist asking. “Why amazing?”

  “I would have thought you could manage the girls, but Luke—”

  “Luke is a wonderful baby,” she protested loyally. “I wonder if you realize how lucky you are.”

  His voice was low, fervent. “Of course I do.”

  “I’ll let you get back to what you were doing. We may not be home until late tomorrow afternoon. Shall I drop off the children?”

  “Only if it’s convenient for Patrick. I don’t want to set his back up.”

  Mollie couldn’t help herself. “What is it between you and my father?”

  “The Irish are always feuding, Mollie. We’ve never invaded another country because we’re always fighting among ourselves. Don’t concern yourself. It’s ancient history.”

  “He seems so kind.”

  “Most likely it’s my fault.” That edge in his voice was back again.

  She could be just as cool. “I’m sure you’re right. We’ll see you tomorrow.” She hung up the phone.

  What was it about Sean O’Malley that raised her hackles? Mollie rarely lost her temper. She was like her mother. Nothing seemed quite worth reaching those levels of passion. It was much better to remain logical, think things through, compromise.

  Why then was she so ready to throw away the habits of a lifetime because a man she barely knew, with only the slightest provocation, brought out emotions she had previously reserved for major crises?

  The sight of the two little girls in their long white nightgowns tucked into the double bed in her spare room brought a smile to Mollie’s lips. She sat down on the edge of the bed and smoothed the feather comforter. “Luke’s sleeping. Shall I read you a story?”

  “Tell us one, please,” said Marni.

  Mollie was at a loss. “I’m much better at reading.”

  “You could tell us about when you were a little girl,” suggested Caili. “Mam did that.”

  “All right.” She patted Marni on the knee. “Move over.”

  Marni rolled to one side of the bed, and Mollie climbed over her to lie in the middle. Caili curled up against her side, molding her body to fit Mollie’s. Marni rested her head in the dip of her aunt’s shoulder.

  “Where shall I begin?”

  “Tell us about the bunnies?” Caili suggested.

  “No,” said Marni. “Tell us about your friends and your house. Was it like ours?”

  “Houses are very different in California,” Mollie explained. “The weather’s warmer, so the rooms are larger and there are more windows. I lived near the ocean just as you do, but it’s very warm and the sun shines nearly all the time. The beach is all white with soft sand that can be very hot under your feet. When I was younger, my friends and I swam and surfed all year long.”

  “Even in winter?” Caili asked.

  “Even in winter, although sometimes we wore wetsuits.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You know what that is, Caili,” Marni interrupted. “Our harbor master has a wetsuit when he has to go under the water.”

  Caili’s thumb had worked its way into her mouth. “What else?”

  Mollie continued. “Every day in the summer we would wake up early, rub lotion all over our bodies, and lie out in the sun until we burned.”

  Marni looked surprised. “Why?”

  Mollie laughed. “I have no idea. It was ridiculous but fun at the time. We swam and sunbathed and ate popsicles.”

  “What’s a popsicle?’ Caili asked around her thumb.

  “Frozen fruit juice. It comes on a stick, and you suck on it.”

  “Is it good?”

  “Very good.”

  “Will you make us a popsicle?” Caili begged.

  Mollie hugged the little girl. “Of course I will. I’ll do it tonight before I go to bed, and we’ll have them when we come home tomorrow.”

  “Will you take us to California?” Marni whispered.

  Mollie hesitated. “That’s a bit complicated. If your uncle agrees, I’ll be happy to take you when I go. But it’s really up to him, Marni, and it would be much better if he came along.” She kissed both girls and climbed out of the bed. “That’s enough for tonight. Sleep well.” She turned off the light.

  “Aunt Mollie?” It was Caili.

  “Yes?”

  “Mam said a prayer with us.”

  Mollie’s religious instruction was spotty. Her mother was a lapsed Catholic. She walked back to the bed. “I’ll listen while you say it.”

  The little girl’s hands came together like a pyramid. Marni folded hers and closed her eyes. In their sing-song, Irish Gaelic, they recited the unintelligible words. When it was over Mollie was strangely comforted. “Go to sleep now,” she whispered again before leaving the room.

  CHAPTER 7

  Newport, California

  Emma sat outside on the deck of her patio and stared at the panoramic view before her. The sun had just dropped into the Pacific, and coppery light spilled across the water like a melted penny. She had known this moment would come, had anticipated and dreaded it for three decades, the reckoning for leaving her son, for placing her own needs, her own sanity, before what was best for her child. She was an unnatural mother, a mother who had abandoned her young and left him unprotected.

  “Emma,” Ward’s voice called out to her. I’m home.”

  She forced a smile to her lips. Ward liked to see her happy. It worried him when she thought too much, especially about the past. The years of therapy, Ward’s contribution, the confusion, the self-doubt that had plagued her for nearly a decade after she’d left the island, belonged to a time that neither of them cared to remember.

  Her husband walked into the family room, smiled when he saw her, and joined her outside. She reached out a hand; he clasped it and leaned down to kiss her. If it hadn’t been for Ward, she might have lost Mollie, too.

  “You look comfortable,” he said. “Are we eating in tonight?”

  “I think so. There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

  He walked back to the bar, poured himself a scotch, added water and ice, and came back to sit beside her. “What’s on your mind?”

  She plunged in. “You’re not going to like this, Ward. I never told you because it seemed absurd even to think about it.” She drew a deep breath. “I’m the legal guardian of Danny’s children.”

  The silence terrified her. Ward was never silent. He was comfortably quiet, reasonably reserved, thoughtful, but never silent. What did it mean?

  “I see,” he said after long minutes had passed. “How long have you known?”

  “Three months or so.”

  “When were you planning to tell me?”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Why not?”

>   Emma felt the stirrings of exasperation. “Young people rarely die, Ward, not both of them. Up until a few weeks ago, the odds against our raising my grandchildren were very small.”

  “And now?”

  Emma sighed. “I don’t know. Kerry’s brother has the children. I know nothing about him.”

  “For God’s sake, Emma.” Ward’s voice was harsh. “Two young children and an infant. Do you have any idea what that would do to us?”

  “I can’t abandon them, Ward. They’re my son’s children.”

  “What about their grandfather?”

  Emma’s lips thinned. “Impossible. You know what Patrick’s like.”

  “He’s familiar to them, far more than we are.”

  Emma’s hands shook. She folded them tightly in her lap. “Are you telling me I can’t bring them here?”

  “Of course not.”

  He was angry, and for the first time since she’d known him, Emma didn’t attempt to placate him.

  “I just want you to consider your options carefully,” he said. “The brunt of all this will fall on you. What about the uncle they’re living with now?”

  “Kerry’s brother is a bachelor, a playwright. I’m not sure that’s the best place for them. They might be better off here with us.”

  Ward shook his head. “If you’re thinking this will make up for losing Danny, you’re wrong. Danny isn’t your fault. We gave him every opportunity to live with us. Look at what you’ve accomplished with Mollie. She’s a wonderful young woman.”

  “I’m going,” she said flatly.

  Ward stared at her. “Going where?”

  “To lreland.”

  “Emma—”

  “I’m going to see my grandchildren. I want them with me. I need to do it because of Danny.” She swallowed and looked directly at her husband. “I would very much like your support, but I’m going either way.”

  “Oh, Emma.” Ward sighed, reached out, and pulled her close to his heart. “Of course you have my support. I’ll even go with you if you want me to.”

  Emma hummed under her breath and stood back to survey the contents of her suitcase. Surely she’d packed enough. She wouldn’t be gone long, a day to fly into Shannon Airport, rent a car, and spend the night outside Galway. Another day to catch the ferry from Rossaveal, stay a few weeks with Mollie, become better acquainted with the children. She would stay just long enough to persuade them to come home with her.

  She refused to consider the ramifications of a fifty-six-year-old woman caring for three children, one of them an infant under three months old.

  Marni was the responsible one, Mollie had told her over the phone last night. She would be a tremendous help with Caili and Luke. Emma smiled. In less than forty-eight hours she would be with Mollie again. The thought of it warmed her heart. The bond had always been strong between the two of them. Watching her go about the smallest task, hearing her laugh, sharing conversation over a cup of coffee, and smelling the clean, floral scent that clung to her hair and skin was pure pleasure. Mollie had never given her a moment’s worry, not until she announced that she’d accepted a fellowship to teach on Inishmore.

  Emma’s first reaction had been shock, followed by dismay. But after Mollie had explained, she felt better. Mollie had always been sensible. It wasn’t a lack in her childhood or a sense of resentment that prompted her decision, but rather a natural curiosity to meet her family and learn something of her Irish heritage. Emma recalled their conversation. Curled up in opposite chairs in the airy living room decorated with seascapes and van Gogh prints, Mollie had gently and characteristically coaxed her out of her initial gloom until Emma was nearly as excited about the trip as she was.

  She had a way about her, as her father had. The thought popped, unbidden, into Emma’s mind. Patrick also had that beguiling Irish charm coupled with the words of a storyteller. She remembered the way his friends had described him that first night in O’Meara’s pub. Patrick Tierney can tell a man to go to hell and make him look forward to the trip. He’d certainly charmed her in no time at all. Charmed her enough so that she gave up her life and her dreams to marry him and live for ten long years on the bleakest, loneliest spot on earth.

  She had made mistakes. There was no getting around that. Her dreams of taking the art world by storm had amounted to nothing more than a hobby she dabbled in now and then. More than anyone, Danny had suffered. Emma couldn’t turn back the clock, but she could make it up to him through his children. Tucking a pair of boots into the side pocket of her suitcase, she smiled, happier than she’d been in years. There was a slight possibility that her entire family would be nearby for the first time.

  Ward parked the car and pulled her suitcase from the trunk of the claret-colored Infiniti he had purchased only last week. He insisted on escorting her to the gate and waiting by the window until he saw her plane soar into the air.

  “I’ll be fine,” she chided him. “You don’t have to do this.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I want to,” he assured her.

  “Be careful,” she said. “Watch your diet. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  Her heart melted. Ward was her love, her savior. Except for his gray hair, he was as handsome and fit as he’d been twenty-five years ago. More important, he was the most decent man she’d ever known. “I love you.”

  “Emma, Emma.” Ward wrapped his arms around his wife. “Promise me you won’t stay any longer than you have to. I miss you already.”

  “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “Give Mollie a kiss for me. I miss her.”

  “I will.”

  The voice over the intercom was loud and garbled. “First-class passengers for Flight 441 to Shannon may board now.”

  Emma kissed him lightly on the lips. “Remember, only egg whites for breakfast, and cut out the beef.”

  “My cholesterol is perfect.”

  “Only because I take care of you.” She handed her boarding pass to the woman at the gate. “I love you, Ward,” she repeated.

  He stroked her cheek. “I love you, too, darling. See you soon.”

  He stood there in khaki-colored Dockers and a navy polo shirt, smiling benignly, waiting for her to turn down the gangway and out of sight.

  Emma faltered, unable to take the steps that would block her husband from view. She had the oddest sensation in her stomach, a moment of sheer panic, disturbing enough to change her mind, nearly, but not quite. Drawing a deep breath, she cleared her throat, threw Ward a final bracing smile, and walked around the corner onto the plane.

  Inishmore, Ireland

  Rare November sunlight colored the land in the crisp, gilt-colored way particular to autumn, blue ocean, green hills, gold fields.

  After a breakfast of French toast and ham for the girls, formula for Luke, Mollie bundled the children into their coats and waited on the porch for Patrick to collect them in his pony trap.

  Marni heard the clip-clop of his Connemara pony before anyone else. “He’s here!” she shouted, and raced down the road to meet her grandfather with Caili at her heels. Mollie waited on the steps with Luke.

  The pony cart appeared over the rise in portions, like a ship at the edge of the horizon. At first Mollie didn’t notice the small woman sitting behind her father. When she did, her eyes widened. Mabry O’Farrell was old, older than anyone Mollie had ever seen outside a rest home, but her body swayed in the cart with the grace of a much younger person. Long white hair was pulled away from her face to form a sizable knot at the back of her head. Her skin was unusually brown and very wrinkled, and her clothing—a long dark wool dress, a woolen shawl, and sturdy shoes—was the kind seen on the island a century ago. She stood and held out her arms when Patrick stopped the cart in front of Mollie.

  “I’ll take the bairn while you climb up,” she said in her strong island voice.

  Mollie handed over the baby and pulled herself up into the trap. “Good morning,
” she said.

  The woman studied her carefully before speaking. “Good morning to you, too, Mollie Tierney. Patrick tells me you’re doing a fine job with the schoolchildren.”

  Mollie smiled. She didn’t notice the woman catch her breath. “Thank you. I like it here.” She hugged her nieces to her. “I especially like it when these two visit me.”

  Mabry smiled. “Well said.”

  The old woman was different but interesting. Everything about Ireland was different and interesting. Mollie laughed out loud, and once more Mabry stared at her curiously.

  “We’re dropping Mabry at the village,” Patrick said. “Then we’ll be on our way back.”

  “What do you have planned for the wee ones, Patrick?” Mabry asked.

  “A family of sea lions swam up on O’Callough’s beach. There’s a white one with them. I want them to see a silkie firsthand.”

  “I’ve seen one already,” Marni announced smugly.

  “You did not!” cried Caili.

  “Aye, she did,” Patrick broke in. “I brought her to the very same beach when she was a wee mite, not even as old as you, Caili. That was her first.”

  “What’s a silkie?” Mollie asked. She couldn’t call him Da, not yet, not in front of a stranger.

  Mabry answered. “A seal who takes on the body of a human and returns, after a time, to the sea.”

  “How do you know which one is the silkie?”

  “The white one is the silkie, lass.” Patrick looked as if he would say something else but changed his mind.

  Mollie held out her arms for her nephew. “Thank you for holding him, but I’ll take him back now.” She left no room in her voice for refusal.

  The baby was warm and pleasantly heavy in her lap. She kissed the top of his head.

  “You’re like your mother,” Mabry announced.

  Surprised, Mollie stared at the old woman. “Did you know her?”

  “I’ve never been off this island, child. I know everyone, but I wouldn’t say I really knew her. I doubt if anyone did. She kept to herself.”