Teague, hunched possessively over a pint as if he half expected someone to snatch it from his fat fingers, interrupted her reverie. “Left Her Royal Highness at home, have you?”
“Don't call my sister that if you value the teeth in your head,” Aislinn threatened.
“Will you listen to it?” said Teague, nudging David in the ribs. “The out McCafferty is back, and in fightin' form.”
“None of that,” Jack scolded. “She's got a name, and a lovely one it is, too.”
What the hell is going on here? Aislinn thought. Jack had never said anything like that to her in her life.
She took another sip of whiskey, pushing some hair off her face as Jack asked when she planned on shearing her flock.
“Padraig and I will be pulling out the old clippers next week,” she told him. She thought about the top-of-the-line shears Liam had bought her in an effort to win her back and suppressed a laugh. King of Romance, that one is. Hopeless is more like it
Bettina reappeared, Liam behind her. “Here's your boy,” she said to Aislinn with a big smile.
Aislinn snorted. “He wishes,”
Liam gestured for her to wait a minute so he could make sure everyone at the bar had everything they needed before he gave her his attention. “What's up?”
“We need to talk,” said Aislinn. She could see Teague straining to hear what she was saying. Were he a cartoon, his ears would be three times the size of his head.
She stared at Teague pointedly. “I think we best go where we can have some privacy,” she said to Liam.
“Sure.”
Liam looked apprehensive as he followed her outside, where the streetlamp cast a ghostly yellow halo on the glistening pavement. He shoved his hands deep in the front pockets of his jeans. peering nervously up and down the street. Very few people were out; most were inside the Oak.
“I know why you're as nervous as a cat around water,” said Aislinn.
“Do you?”
“Yes, unfortunately.” She paused uneasily. “A man came up to the farm yesterday asking all sorts of questions about you.”
Alarm streaked across his handsome face. “What did you tell him?”
“Not a damn thing. And I told Padraig to keep his yap shut if he comes sniffing again.”
“I appreciate that.” Liam ran his hand back and forth across his mouth. “I'm screwed, Aislinn,” he said in a voice cracking with emotion. “They've figured out where I am.”
Aislinn took him by the shoulders. “You're not screwed,” she replied fiercely while at the same time trying to erase an image in her mind of the man swaggering into the Oak and shooting Liam point-blank in the chest. “No one here will let anything happen to you.”
“Even you?”
“Christ, I'm not that much of a bitch, am I?”
“Of course you're not.”
“Thank you.” Aislinn dropped her hands from his shoulders, suddenly feeling tongue-tied and emotional. If anything happened to him. . no, she was right, nothing would. He was one of their own.
Liam looked sad as he began walking back toward the pub. “Well, thanks for letting me know. I appreciate it.”
“One more thing.” Aislinn pulled a check out of the back pocket of her jeans. “For Dublin.”
Liam s face fell. Aislinn -"
“Maybe it's too much, maybe it's too little, I don't know,” she said hurriedly, wanting this awkward moment to be over. “All I know is we're even now. I don't owe you anything.”
Liam looked pained. “Dublin was my present to you. Can you please at least. . .”
“All right,” Aislinn said softly, putting the check back in her jeans as she followed him back into the pub. She hated to admit it, but his anguish felt like an arrow to her heart. She reminded herself that he had no one but himself to blame. But still
*****
Inside, the musicians were playing one of her favorite tunes, “Star of the County Down,” when all of a sudden, their red-faced, roly-poly lead singer, Chuck Clayton, abruptly motioned for the band to halt. Looking as solemn as a judge, he whispered something in the ear of each musician, to which all of them nodded in agreement. When he was done, he addressed the pub at large.
“We'd like to play a little tune for Aislinn McCafferty and Liam O'Brien, who as we all know are meant to be together. It's a song by an American duo called Peaches & Herbert -”
“Herb, you eejit!” someone called out.
“Herbie, called 'Reunited,' ” Chuck finished, looking right at Aislinn.
Too stunned to speak, all Aislinn could do was glare at Liam while the old men launched into the most pitiful version of the song she'd ever heard.
“Don't look at me!” Liam protested. “I don't have anything to do with it!”
“Get all that out of your mouth.”
“I'm not lying!” Liam insisted vehemently.
“Oh, so they decided to do this of their own volition, did they?” Aislinn scoffed.
“Apparently so. Maybe you should take the hint.”
“And what hint would that be, pray tell?”
“To give me another chance. To reunite with me, 'cause 'it feels so good,' ”Liam said playfully, laughing as he quoted the song.
Aislinn was incredulous. “You're a real piece of work, you know that?”
“All the more reason to love me. Wouldn't you rather be with a piece of work than a snooze like Alec Fry?”
Aha! She knew she'd been right to avoid the pub for the past twelve days and leave him twisting in the wind, torturing himself over Alec Fry.
“I'm not discussing Alec Fry with you.”
She longed to flash him a final glare and leave but found herself unable to move, pinned to the spot by the hopeful look in the eyes of all her fellow Ballycraigers. Take him back their gazes said. You know you love him. Go on. She looked down at the floor, hating every moment of their scrutiny. She'd always felt uncomfortable being the center of attention, and this was no exception.
The song seemed to go on for an excruciatingly long time, especially since the poor old boys were massacring it. Liam must have asked them to learn it and play it the next time she came to the Oak. She had to give him points for creativity, but the fact the band was up there blatantly shilling for him - well, it was sad.
The song ended, an expectant silence hanging over the room. Aislinn could feel everyone's gaze still fixed on her, waiting, watching. She raised her head slowly. “Good night,” she said politely, and walked out of the pub.
*****
Well, that went over like a fart in church." Jack sighed sadly once Aislinn was out the door.
Liam had been mortified when the band started playing the song. He knew they meant well, and he more than appreciated the effort, but what they'd done was not going to aid his cause. Still, he thanked the musicians profusely. “We tried, son,” said Chuck, picking up a pint for himself at the bar to assuage his powerful thirst."
“I know you did, and I appreciate it.” Liam waited until Chuck went back to play traditional tunes with the band before regarding Bettina.
“I think it might be better if I tried winning her back on my own.”
“Nonsense,” she declared. “That was just the first blow.”
“You're right there: they did indeed blow,” Fergus agreed.
“Peaches & Herb,” Jack mused. “I always did like them.”
Bettina squeezed Liam's arm affectionately. “Don't worry. She'll come round. We've all of us just got to keep at it.”
“Maybe you all should tell me what you plan to do so I can let you know whether it's a good idea or not,” Liam said carefully. “I mean, I'd hate for you all to waste your time.”
“I'll make a mention of it at coffee after church tomorrow,” said Bettina.
“Thanks,” said Liam, mildly relieved. He got back to work, but it was hard to be affable as he struggled not to drown in the darkness inside his head. He hated that Whitey's guy in Ireland had talked to Aislinn. Jack
must have noticed how preoccupied he was, because he pulled him aside during a rare lull.
“Talk to me, boyo. You've got your head up your arse by the look of it.”
“Some guy was up at the Aislinn's farm asking about me,” he said miserably. “It's just a matter of time.” He laughed bitterly. “It's ironic. I mean, if I'm gonna be killed, why not just go home and let them do it there? At least I'd be with my family.”
“You are not going to be killed.”
“If I get killed here,” Liam mused, ignoring Jack's reassurance, "it means coming here was a waste of time. I could have been home all along.
“But you wouldn't have met Aislinn,” Jack pointed out.
“Didn't think of that.”
“Obviously.”
Aislinn. Something dawned on him. “You know, if we get back together, I could be putting her in danger.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “For feck's sake, will you stop writing a gangster movie in your head and just concentrate on getting that girl back?”
“That's not likely to happen after tonight.”
“Don't worry: I'll tell Chuck and the boys to stick to the old songs. We can't have them playing the likes of 'Sexual Healing' the next time she comes in here. That'd put the nail in your coffin for sure.”
Liam laughed. “Thanks for making me feel better, Jack.”
“Ah, it's nothing,” Jack deflected. “Now get back to work.”
Liam returned to the bar with a lighter heart, his head somewhat cleared. Aislinn had to be softening a little, didn't she?
Straight Up
Chapter Twenty-eight
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“Unbelievable.”
Aislinn shook her head as she signed for the package the postman had just delivered to her front door. It had to be from Liam. Had to be. This was the second time anything had ever been delivered to the farm that had to be signed for. Unbelievable.
She ran up to her bedroom to stash the package before returning to the kitchen to finish up lunch with Padraig. Nora had taken the truck into Moneygall for her weekly run to buy gourmet tidbits for herself. Ironically. Padraig seemed to be developing a taste for the organic, gourmet coffee Nora insisted on buying, even though it really cheesed her off when one of the three bags she'd brought home one week went mysteriously missing. Aislinn offered to pay for it, though she did feel compelled to point out to Nora there were worse things on earth than aging, coffee poaching shepherds.
Things had been slightly tense between them since their row about Nora's sorting through their parents' things without Aislinn. There had been a lot of late-night phone calls to Donald in London. Aislinn was just waiting for Nora to drop the bomb about building the guesthouse.
Padraig's eyes tracked her as she sat down across from him at the table. “Who was that?” he asked, taking a big sip of coffee. None of your beeswax, you nosy parker.
Padraig shrugged. “No need to tell me. I know it was the postman. Recognized his voice.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“Just making conversation.”
“Mmm.” Aislinn took a few bites of her ham sandwich. stalling. She needed to talk to Padraig about shearing day, and she was dreading it. but she knew she couldn't avoid it any longer.
“I wanted to talk to you about Friday.”
“I'm looking forward to testing out those fancy clippers the Yank gave you.”
“I'm sure.” Aislinn folded her napkin neatly on the table. “The thing is. I've asked Alec and his brother to help us.” Her hand shot out quickly to cover his. You know the two of us can't do it alone. We need at least one other person, and with Dad gone . . .“ She cleared her throat as she started to get choked up. ”So Alec and Jake are going to help."
Padraig's gaze was hard. “Your father and I used to do it alone, you know, before you joined us.”
“Yes, and it took you forever!” Aislinn countered. “With four of us, think how fast it will go: Alec can secure each animal to be shorn, I can gather up the wool and fleece from the shearing area, Jake can mind the gates and do general cleanup, and you can shear.”
Padraig was silent.
“Say something.”
“I don't like this one bit.”
“It's going to save us a lot of time, Padraig,” she repeated.
“I'm not surprised you've asked your new boyfriend to join us.”
“My what?”
“Don't think I don't know you went to Crosshaven with Alec Fry.”
“We had dinner together. That's all. Not that it's any of your business.”
“He's angling to marry you so he can take over the farm, and then he can get rid of me,”
“Jesus God, help me,” Aislinn said under her breath. “You sound crazy when you say things like that, you know that?”
“It's clear as day,” Padraig maintained stubbornly.
“If you don't stop saying mad, paranoid things, I'm going to call the doctor and tell him you're going soft in the head!” Aislinn snapped.
“Is that what you think?” Padraig shot back. “That I'm a crazy old man?”
“Oh, dear God.” Aislinn cradled her head in her hands. “Right now, I do think that, yes, when you talk out your arse. The faster we shear, the faster we can clean the wool, and the faster we can sell it and make money to keep the damn farm going!”
Padraig just harrumphed.
“Did you not catch that I said you're doing the shearing? I wouldn't dream of having anyone else." Really?
“Jesus, are you going deaf as well? Yes.”
Padraig leaned back in his chair, a satisfied look on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I've always been a dab hand at it, if I say so myself.” He chugged down some coffee, “How much are you paying them?”
“You let me worry about that.”
“And Nora? Are you thinking of giving her a job as well?”
“Oh, right,” Aislinn chortled. “She'd love that.” She paused thoughtfully. “Actually, maybe I can ask her to take care of lunch and dinner. That would be helpful.”
"She's not fond of them Frys, you know. Hid in her room the whole time they were 'helping me out' when you skipped off to
Dublin.“ ”You make it sound like I abandoned the farm. I went away for a weekend. As for Nora, well Aislinnjust shrugged. She wasn't about to make excuses for her sister. “Anyway, I'm sure she'd be willing to help out, at least in the kitchen.”
“That article of hers - what, is she rewriting the Bible? You'd think she was back here for good, it's taking her so long.”
Aislinn felt the same way but held her tongue, trying to remind herself that she'd never had to write anything longer than a shopping list, so she had no idea whether the research required was as time intensive as Nora claimed it to be. She seemed tired at the end of the day, that much was certain, though Aislinn did sometimes hear her rumbling around at night. Well, she couldn't worry about Nora right now. She had other concerns, like her workday and the package waiting upstairs in her bedroom.
*****
Aislinn sat on the edge of her bed, eyeing the plain brown package as she brushed her hair. She'd been thinking about it all day, wondering what could be in it, hating herself for even caring. Maybe I'll send it back unopened, she mused. Her gaze moved slowly to the bottle of perfume on her dresser, the only scent she'd ever owned. That's the only reason she'd kept it; it had nothing to do with Liam. She figured that in case she ever did meet a man worthy of her, it might be nice to wear some scent occasionally, but not too much, like Bettina. Nora wore perfume every day. Aislinn didn't see the point; who was there to smell it, besides herself and Padraig? Nora said it made her feel feminine. Liam made me feel feminine, she thought. She shook out her hair as she shook away the thought.
Despite his balking, Padraig had taken the news of the Fry brothers helping out better than she'd imagined. The key, of course, was lett
ing him do the shearing, which was the most important job. Nora had been more than amenable about preparing a hearty lunch and dinner for them all on shearing day. Perhaps, in her way, she was trying to make peace.
Aislinn braided her hair, then padded into the bathroom to put some moisturizer on her face. Vain thing, she chided herself. But she did work outside all day, and coming up on thirty in a few years as she was, she didn't really want to look weathered before her time. The moisturizer made her think of her mother, who'd once told her, “There are two things a woman should do every night before turning in: tell her man she loves him, and put some cream on her face to keep a youthful glow.” Aislinn chuckled to herself; only her mother would use a term like youthful glow. But evidently there was something in it: her mother's skin had been gorgeous. The memory made Aislinn nostalgic, but strangely, not sad. Perhaps she was truly beginning to move past the sting of her parents' deaths.
She returned from the bathroom and sat cross-legged on her bed, pulling the package onto her lap. Now there came memories of Christmas, she and Nora always so careful when opening their presents: no mad ripping of paper in the McCafferty household, since their mother liked to save it for use again the next year. She tore at the plain brown paper as quietly as she could; the last thing she wanted was for Nora to hear. Inside the plain brown paper was a box with the La Senza logo across the top, tied up prettily with a pink bow. Aislinn remembered what a big deal it had been when a La Senza shop opened in Moneygall, the scandal of it among some of the older women of Ballycraig. Heat rushed to her face as she clumsily opened the box and held up the gift nestled in the pale blue tissue paper inside: a short, sheer, blush pink nightie with white lace trim. Aislinn stared at it a long time, not even needing to read the card to know it was from Liam. Her mind flew back to their weekend in Dublin, how he'd whispered sexily in her ear one night about how he'd love to see her in some lingerie, even though he swore she was gorgeous in nothing but a man's oversized T-shirt. The memory of his words kindled a warmth inside her that was overpowering.
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