Ripple (Persy & Sully) (Seaside Valleria #2)

by Marianne Knightly

  Throughout it all, they talked. And talked. And talked.

  About nothing and important things, about their families. She still couldn’t talk about Molly, but she could talk about nearly everything else.

  It was funny; she’d never had discussions like this with Tom. They’d talked, of course, but never like this. They’d been so young when they got together and then married. They’d never really talked.

  They certainly hadn’t talked after Molly’s funeral. No, she’d left the house and the marriage, and she’d never seen him since. Even their divorce was finalized without either of them needing to see the other in person.

  She’d left the village, and eventually Ireland. Some things she’d always miss about that country—certain scents and foods and places—but she mostly missed her family, her parents the most. They hadn’t always been there for her, but that didn’t mean she’d stopped loving them.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  She tilted her head up to meet his eyes. They were lying on the beach, their food packed away. He was on his back, she curled against him and his body heat, her head and one hand on his chest.

  “Ireland.”

  He caressed the arm that lay against his chest, his other hand stroking her hair. “What about it?”

  She tilted her head away. “The people I left behind.”

  “Do you miss them?”

  A swift breeze ruffled her hair and she pushed it back. “Some of them. Sometimes.” All the time.

  He gave her a squeeze. “Have you been back to visit since you left?”

  She shook her head.

  “Do you want to?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What happened? What’d they do to you?”

  She took a deep breath. Could she do it? Could she tell him? She wanted to tell someone, but she needed someone to believe in her. Would Sully believe in her?

  “It’s what they didn’t do that mattered.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “When M-Molly died. Everyone blamed me. Tom—Thomas, my ex-husband—he also blamed me. Then the neighbors and the rest of the village did, too. I could have handled the village blaming me, I suppose, if Tom and my parents had supported me. But they hadn’t.”

  She sniffled, against both the cold and memories. “Even if I cried, they told me it was wrong. That I should just forget about Molly and have another. As if one child could replace the one that’d been lost. I couldn’t grieve, I couldn’t cry. Tom shut down and shut me out. I know everyone was grieving, but no one was grieving with me. I felt so alone. Eventually, it just became too much for me and I left, both Tom and village.”

  His voice was so soft, but she heard the edge of it. “Your parents didn’t help you?”

  “They tried, in their way. When Tom…Tom said some things to me, right after she died. He…I…I just couldn’t stay. So, after the funeral, I went back to my parent’s home. Though they’d initially blamed me for Molly, by the time the funeral was done, they didn’t anymore. But they couldn’t support my leaving Tom. Said that sort of thing just wasn’t done, and I should go back to him. ‘Good Irish girls don’t get divorced’, my ma said. But the things he’d said to me, done to me, I just couldn’t stay. So, eventually, I filed for divorce and left the village. Went to Dublin and worked in pubs until the divorce became final.”

  She’d been alone when she signed the papers. In her dingy flat, on a small, wobbly table in her kitchen. She’d tried calling her parents, but they hadn’t answered. She’d wanted to hear a friendly voice before she signed, or even the unfriendly, condemning voice of her ma telling her not to throw her life away.

  What was it about a signature? A single signature on her marriage license had changed her life. A signature on a birth certificate had brightened her life. A signature on a death certificate had destroyed her life. A signature on her divorce decree had changed her life yet again.

  So many signatures, in so short a time—just a few years—all turning her world upside-down, over and over and over again.

  “Where’d you travel before ending up here?”

  His question broke her from her thoughts. She told him about England, then France, then Valleria. She’s started in the capital, Valentia, but had eventually made her way to Masillia and stayed.

  “Something about this city. It’s a little broken, a little neglected and stuck. It was like me in a lot of ways.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  She shook her head. “That’s how I felt. Still feel, sometimes.” A lot of the time, if she were truthful with herself.

  “Not about yourself, honey. You’re wrong about Masillia. This city may be all of those things, but it’s also unique and vibrant, and full of interesting people trying to live a good life. Masillia has a lot of good going for it; it just needs some love.”

  Didn’t everyone? She tilted her head again, this time adjusting her body as well to prop herself up on his chest. “Do you miss Ireland?”

  “Yes, though I suppose I miss my family most of all.”

  He seemed to be considering something for a few moments. “The MPF is considering making me an offer.”

  Her pulse quickened. “Oh?”

  He nodded. “They’re thinking about asking me to transfer here permanently.”

  Her hand tightened in his sweater. Oh my God. He might stay? He wouldn’t leave her? “Really?”

  He nodded again. “If it all works out, there would be some downsides: I may not get to keep my pension, and I’d have to give up my Irish citizenship. Or I can continue as an Irish liaison, if the Garda agrees to it. Or, I can just go home at the end of my term.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He shifted his head slightly, adjusting so he could see her better. “I haven’t decided yet. Are you going to stay in Masillia?”

  “Would that matter?” God, she hoped it would matter.

  “Yes. It might influence my decision.”

  Hope bloomed inside her; another alien emotion she wasn’t used to. She mattered to him.

  He mattered to her, too. She wouldn’t have shared as much if he didn’t. He was making her feel safe and accepted and wanted.

  What were they starting? And where would this lead? What if he ended up going home? Could she go with him? Go back and live in Ireland, when that was the last thing she wanted to do?

  She’d given up so much of herself the first time she’d married. She didn’t have it in her to do that again.

  Then again, Sully hadn’t made any decisions, and jumping straight to thinking long-term probably wasn’t the best thing to focus on right now. Instead, she focused the fact that she mattered to him. That her opinion mattered, and her feelings mattered. “Sully.”

  Before she could tell him what she thought, his hand shifted up to curl around her nape and gave it a small squeeze. “Don’t stress about this. I’ve got some time before they decide if they’re going to offer it to me. I just found out yesterday myself, and I’m still thinking it over. What you need to know, honey, is that no matter what happens, I’m still in this with you. Do you believe that?”

  She thought about the way he’d held her last night. About the way he’d cooked for her that morning. About how he was denying himself something that he—and also she—liked a whole hell of a lot, which was sex.

  Yes, she could believe that. “Yes, but I will answer your question. I mentioned last night that I didn’t want to live in Ireland again, and I meant it. I just…I might be able to visit someday, but I can’t ever live there again.”

  His hand gave her another squeeze, and his thumb caressed behind her ear. “Thank you for telling me, honey.”

  “Thank you for telling me that I matter.”

  His eyes got bright, and he leaned up at the same time he brought her closer for a kiss. It was long and sweet and continued as he laid her down beside him on the blanket.

  They were in public, and it didn’t go farther than a few heated minutes
of kisses, but it was more than enough to warm her inside.

  Though, his words had done that for her earlier.

  For the first time in a long time, she felt warm and safe.

  And very nearly almost happy.

  Chapter Six

  For Persy, the next few weeks were a revelation. She and Sully spent a lot of time together, whenever their schedules allowed. They slept together, usually at his place—seriously, his bed was fantastic—but they’d yet to have sex again.

  He paid a lot of attention to her in bed—a lot—and she returned the favor, but he never went further than that. When she’d questioned him on it, he’d only said, “I’m building us to that point.”

  Did he need more time to accept her now that he knew about her past? It didn’t seem like it. He was affectionate and caring, just not fully physical.

  She wondered if he was holding back because he’d decided to go back to Ireland and just hadn’t shared it yet. It would be something he’d do, holding off on sex because he might feel he could be taking advantage of her if they had it.

  For her, the weeks with him—easy dinners, full nights when they were both off work—were nothing like she’d experienced before. Comparing Sully and Tom might not be right, yet she’d had so little relationship experience with men that it was hard for her to do anything but.

  Tom hadn’t been a bad man or cruel one, at least not until the end. He was too young to marry, just as she’d been. Some people married young and it worked out. They just weren’t one of those pairs.

  With Sully, things were different in so many ways. Little ways. She talked more, for one. She hadn’t talked so much in all her life, but couldn’t say she minded it. She and Tom had talked, of course, but never like this. Never to learn everything there was to know about the other. She and Tom had grown up together. She supposed they’d just taken advantage of that fact and assumed they’d both known ‘enough’ about the other.

  What she was learning now, was that there wasn’t ‘enough’ to learn. Because people always changed, there would always be something else, something new about the other person to discover. Maybe in her marriage, as both she and Tom had changed, neither of them had learned those changes about the other. With Sully, she didn’t think she’d ever reach that peak where she knew everything, and she hoped he felt the same way.

  Sully might be holding them back, taking the high road, or being the mature one at the moment, but he was also taking care with her. After their first date and the day after, she’d decided she really liked Sully.

  Now, she worried she might be falling in love with him, and she was terrified.

  Terrified of what might happen if he left Valleria.

  Terrified that if he did leave, she’d never find a relationship like this—one that was accepting and caring and loving—again.

  Terrified that to keep this relationship, she might start considering going back to Ireland permanently, too.

  The last also filled her with pain. Deep, gut-clenching, physical pain.

  It wasn’t just facing the people in her past that made her ambivalent about going back. While she loved a lot about Ireland, she didn’t love the pressure she’d faced. The pressure to be that ‘good Irish girl’ was too much for her. True, that pressure had led her to marry and have Molly—she’d never regret Molly, not ever—but she couldn’t face that pressure again. She just wanted to be herself, not what everyone else wanted her to be.

  Here in Masillia, she’d finally found people who accepted her, not the version of her they wanted her to become.

  She’d found some peace here, and that was too addictive to give up.

  Late one afternoon, near the end of Persy’s shift, she was finishing up with a customer. Sully was off work close to when she was, and they’d arranged to meet that evening for dinner out. She was going to do her best to convince him to stay inside and focus on other activities. If he did decide to leave Valleria, she was going to leave him with a sweet—and hot—memory.

  She turned, a tray of dirty dishes and empties in her hand, when she saw Sully by the bar. Her brows shot up. Maybe he’d gotten off earlier. Except, the look on his face wasn’t happiness at being let off work early. He was upset about something.

  She got near him and put the tray on the bar. “What’s wrong?”

  “Use my office,” Hector murmured and she startled; she hadn’t even seen him next to Sully.

  “Let’s talk a minute.”

  She glanced between Sully and Hector. “What’s wrong?”

  Sully shook his head. “Not out here.”

  He took her hand and led her down the hall. He was still in his uniform, and she still in hers, the change in her apron jangling as they walked.

  Something was wrong.

  Once inside, he didn’t mince words.

  “Honey, something’s happened. Back in Ireland.”

  Her hand tightened against his. “Your family?”

  He shook his head, and his voice was gentle when he spoke. “No, honey. Yours.”

  The air seemed to get sucked out of the room, and she felt the world spinning. Barely a moment later she was in his arms.

  Her family. God. “What happened?”

  He sat down on the couch, then put her in his lap. “It’s your father. He was in an accident.”

  “Oh my God.” She dropped her head into her palms. She thought of the last time she’d seen him, when she’d left their house and boarded the bus to Dublin. He’d been standing nearby, his hands in his pockets, face even. She’d watched her parents from the bus window, craning her neck at one point, but they hadn’t come running after the bus or her. They’d just turned around and left.

  “He’s alive. Still in the hospital at the moment, but alive.”

  Alive. Alive. Alive. The word was a mantra in her head. No matter what her parents had said to her in the past, they were still her parents. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to them. “He’s alive.”

  “Yes. Accident on the farm involving the tractor. Honey, do you want to go home?”

  Home? Ireland wasn’t home anymore, but should she visit?

  Memories shuffled through her head, one fading slowly into the next. Happy times mixed with sad times mixed with devastating times.

  Could she go back and face them? Face the neighbors and villagers who’d turned her away?

  But…her father was hurt. Though she’d been gone for years, for the first time she really comprehended how long she’d been gone. Her parents weren’t getting any younger. Could she go back and try to reconcile with them? Would they even welcome her if she did? Could she handle the rejection if they didn’t?

  “I…I think I’d like to go, but I’m not sure I’d be welcome. He’s okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “My mother?”

  “She’s okay, too.”

  She let out a breath. If she didn’t try to reconcile now, when would she? Even if they rejected her, then at least she’d know and be able to put the past—at least some of it—behind her, once and for all.

  “I want to—no, I need to see him.” God. Going home, after all this time.

  “Okay.”

  She tried to leave his lap, but he held her tight. She had to focus on something, anything to distract her. “I need to tell Hector, and I need to buy tickets, and I need to pack and get to the airport, and I need—”

  “I know, honey. I’ll help you.”

  She blinked. “You will?”

  “Of course. You won’t face this alone.”

  She stared nervously at him and licked her lips. “Will…Will you come with me?”

  He squeezed her. “Was already planning on it, honey. You needn’t have asked.”

  She sighed. “Thanks. Thank you.” She choked on the last word.

  She was going back to Ireland.

  But she wasn’t going alone.

  She wasn’t alone.

  He brushed a thumb over her cheek; she’d started crying and hadn
’t realized it. “You’re welcome. I won’t let you face Ireland alone.”

  “What about work and the opportunity your captain mentioned? If you take a vacation now, won’t that hurt your chances?” It was a slightly selfish question because if he lost this chance, then he’d definitely be going back to Ireland.

  “They’ll understand. Don’t worry about that.”

  She could tell Sully wasn’t being entirely truthful, but she got distracted from calling him on it when something else filtered into her consciousness. “Wait. I don’t understand. How did you hear about my father?”

  He stroked a hand over her hair. “Your parents have been trying to find you for a while. Even went as far as hiring a PI from Dublin to do it. He’d tracked you to Valleria, but not to Masillia yet. When the accident happened, you ma called him and asked him to speed things up. He knew someone on the police force in Ireland, who made a call here. As I’m the Irish liaison, I was informed.”

  He kissed her. It was chaste, sweet, and incredibly comforting. “Take a deep breath, honey. I’ll help you. We’ll all help you.”

  And they did.

  Millie helped her pack.

  Hector called Liz and Beth, two other waitresses at the pub, and they volunteered to cover her shifts for as long as she needed.

  Sully did everything else. Arranging his own time off, packing, and booking their tickets.

  She was in a daze, suddenly at the airport, then on a plane.

  Ready or not, she was going to face her parents and her past.

  Sully had just left his CO’s office and requested the emergency vacation time.

  To say it had not gone well was an understatement.

  His CO knew what the Cap had told him, and he knew that Sully’s future was on the line. Taking time off now wasn’t going to help him or help his case.

  By the time he and Persy came back to Valleria, that meant his options could be severely limited. He couldn’t worry about that now; he had to focus on Persy.

  First, though, he had to let his ma know what was going on. He found an empty room at the station and called her. “Ma, it’s me.”